


Margaery's Lady

by Loke_Lyon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassination Plot(s), Mistaken Identity, Multi, Politics, Slow Build, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loke_Lyon/pseuds/Loke_Lyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fears grow as university student, Sansa Stark, who disappeared three days ago, is still missing...</p><p>In the city of Kings Landing, Margaery Tyrell buys a fine northern wolfdog that had previously been a stray. </p><p>And the plots of the noble houses of Westeros continue on, heedless and ignorant of the Stark clan's race to find Sansa before their family secret of lycanthropy is revealed to the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Simplicity in the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119041) by [mautadite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite). 



> So much thanks to my awesome beta [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)

_“Fears grow as University student Sansa Stark, who disappeared three days ago, is still missing. The twenty year old was last seen by her housemate Jeyne Poole three days ago before Miss Stark is assumed to have gone on a run through the local park. The City Guard is appealing for any witnesses,”_

Sansa had known it had been a bad idea to go for a run so soon after another, but the stresses and strains of the modern world and her classes had been getting to her. Joffrey’s presence on campus was certainly not helping either. She’d wasted a year on him and had started this year determined on a fresh start yet every time she saw him… She put him and memories of his cruelty out of her mind. It was done and dealt with for the moment, even if her stomach churned at speaking to Uncle Robert the next time she saw him. 

Yet even as Jeyne had cheered her on with her newfound attitude to life, she still found it hard to head to clubs or really let go. Septa Mordane had drilled into her what was expected of a young lady of her station. Going against something so ingrained was proving to be hard work.

So the run had been needed. Otherwise she might have snapped and transformed in the middle of campus. An act that would really get the rumour mill going… not to mention getting her entire family locked up.

The night was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Sansa let the wolf run and carry her through the city park, reveling in the smells and sights. It was not Winterfell, not even close, but here the stink of the city was muted by the flowers and lake and so it had become her sanctuary in a place she barely understood.

She should have been watching. Her mother had drummed caution into her since her first transformation: don’t run on nights close to each other; beware of your surroundings; always have an escape plan…

It had been a testament to just how distracted she was that she only notice the humans that now surrounded her when one stepped in front of her. She spun and quickly saw the other two. A quick sniff told her of three more waiting just upwind.

She calculated the odds of her escape. The humans seemed to be trained animal catchers and whilst any attempt to outrun them would be successful, they likely had tranquilisers and Sansa had no intention of taking those odds. Most animal control personnel were good shots these days and too much tranquiliser could kill even a werewolf.

A dark, wolven thought flitted through her head, briefly. The wolf in her would have her escape regardless and leave six bodies in her wake. She shuddered with disgust at the idea, reminding herself that they carried tranquilisers for that reason, and any violence on her part would result in death. No, there was only one choice and what an embarrassing choice it was. She was never going to live this down if her siblings found out.  
Which they would.

The man in front seemed to have determined she meant no harm, and was moving in closely, even as the man behind her extended the pole they used for securing stray dogs. The first man was speaking softly, not meeting her eyes. Sansa watched him closely, however, knowing what was coming.

The man behind her slipped the metal wire over her, pulling it taut around her neck. She began to struggle instinctively at the pressure on her throat. The second man used her panic as an opportunity to slip in close and wrap a thick fabric muzzle over her face.

“She’s not wearing a collar, Matt,” warned the first man. The man wielding the metal wire pulled it taut again, and another whine escaped her throat, but she forced herself to stop struggling even as her wolf side screamed at her to pull free and run.

“What are you betting some snotty brat bought her as a puppy and now she’s fully grown, they’ve realised how much of a handful these things are?” answered the man who had muzzled her.

The first man crouched in front of her and ran his hands over her coat. “Is she pulling much Matt?” he asked.

Matt, the man with the pole, shook his head and nodded to the third man. “She’s fine Al. Maric, get a collar on her,”

Maric stepped forward and wrapped a collar around her neck and then snapped it shut. It wasn’t too tight and Sansa realised these were professionals. Next Al attached a thick lead to the collar and then stood up with a grunt.

“Do we need a double?” asked Matt, removing the wire from her neck.

Even though he could not pull it tight enough to injure her, she still mentally breathed a sigh of relief. It was never pleasant to have something so close to her throat.

“She’s been well behaved so far…” Al’s voice was doubtful. Time to play the loyal pet, even if the wild northern werewolf in her resented it. She looked up at him and caught his eyes, cocking her head slightly.

Al smiled. “Nah, I think she’s tame. Maric’s probably right.” He gave the leash a tug and she followed on tamely.

“She’s a magnificent beast! What do you think, Matt? Definitely has some Northern Wolfdog in her,” Maric enthused. He apparently knew his dog breeds.

Out of the darkness a van loomed. The logo stenciled on the back identified it as belonging to Seaworth Dog Catching Services, operating out of Flea Bottom. She eyed it suspiciously and Al picked up on her reluctance.

“Come on girl,” he urged gently.

Sansa wondered what her chances were if she ran now. Judging by Maric and Matt and the grip Al had on the leash she doubted they were high unless she demonstrated she was not a dog as they thought.

Okay, she could do this.

She leapt in, taking some small in happiness in almost lurching Al from his feet. He caught himself on the side of the van and shot a glare at Maric, who had snorted in amusement.

“She’d be perfect for breeding, she has the right temperament and everything. How old does she look?” Maric asked, hiding his smirk.

Al rolled his eyes as he leapt in behind her to secure her leash to a hokk set into the side of the van. Matt slid the pole in and snorted.

“Well, if you want to breed her you can pay for her. Dale will check her out and she’ll go on sale like every other dog we have,” admonished Al and he leapt out of the van and shut the door behind him. 

Sansa listened hard as they walked around to the front, pausing at the doors to talk.

“Are you kidding me, Al? We could make hundreds of stags off of one litter of pups alone!” whined Maric.

“So you can pay hundreds of stags for her, Maric!” Matt’s voice was a growl that carried overtones of “shut up” and “We’ve had this argument before.”

Doors slammed as they got in the van, Maric almost audibly sulking. 

Al sighed. “How much is she worth if we leave her intact?” he asked, pulling his seatbelt on.

Maric shrugged. “At a guess, intact I’d say a hundred stags. Even spayed she’d fetch at least fifty,”

The men went silent, each presumably lost in their own thoughts.

“Seems a bit much for a dog…” said Matt after a while. Maric shifted uncomfortably, clearly chafing that his co-workers could think he was wrong.

“Well, she’s a beautiful specimen. We don’t know her breed, but that’s not what matters. She’s a hunter through and through. Just a quick look tells me the vast majority is Northern Wolfdog, but it’s like someone took that and bred it with an actual wolf, I can’t describe it. She’s unique and unique sells for the right price to the right people,” Maric explained.

Al whistled, impressed.

“How likely is it she was born from an actual wolf and a wolfdog?” asked Matt quietly.

Even Sansa was aware of the law against selling animals bred with their wild counterparts and the sort of fines you could get hit with for it.

“I doubt it. I don’t think the result would be so… smooth,” Maric floundered, looking for the right words.

Al whistled again and started up the van.

“Better get her to Dale then and hope she doesn’t have a microchip in her. That hundred stags could do us a lot of good,” said Matt.

“Amen to that,” agreed Maric.

Al merely shook his head. “A hundred stags,” he murmured to himself in disbelief. 

A hundred stags for her! Part of her was irritated it wasn’t more and at the same time part of her was terrified. If they sold her the chances of Mum and Dad finding her decreased hugely.

Dale was an older brother it seemed. After a while, Sansa realised they were all related to one another. After being locked into one of their cages for the night and having the muzzle removed, she’d settled down, hoping that missing her nightly check-in tomorrow would alert her parents to the fact she was gone.

She knew the drill, partly from when Arya had gone missing one weekend. Mum phoned the hospitals; Dad phoned the animal shelters, whilst Robb and Jon would take the train along the King’s Rail to her apartment to discreetly hunt for her scent. It was only a matter of time - even if part of her was dreading the endless teasing and lectures she would have to endure on her return.

She had managed to grab a few precious hours sleep, awaking confused and afraid in the dim morning light. All around her there were other dogs, all fully aware that Sansa was not one of them. 

Some were barking and snapping and others cowered unhappily.

It wasn’t long before Al and another man strolled through, talking seriously. Sansa strained her ears.

“I’m worried about Dad. He’s putting his back out for Stannis,” murmured Al. 

Dale tutted in annoyance.

“He always has, Al, but the rewards for his service are far greater,” Al cut him off.

“Yes, we know Stannis put you through school, Dale, and we know he funded our company, but he treats us like servants,” hissed Al. 

Dale shook his head. “Allard, stop. Our life is so much better now Dad works for Stannis so leave it, okay? Dad’s not stupid and neither am I.”

Al sighed and shrugged and his older brother patted him on the shoulder and smiled sadly.  
“I worry about him,” 

Dale chuckled.

“Don’t we all? Where’s this dog Maric wouldn’t shut up about?” he asked, eyes scanning the row of cages. A frown crossed his face as he noted the dogs’ behaviour. 

Al zeroed in on her cage and Dale followed, curious. His face went white when he saw her. 

“You can’t actually expect me to stick my hands near that thing! It’ll eat me alive,” he cried.

Al laughed at his discomfort, reaching over and grabbing a leash from a rack. “I’ll muzzle her if you want, but she’s as good as gold,” he said, grinning.

Dale snorted as Al opened the cage and cooed gently at her. He clipped the leash on with practiced ease and gave it a small tug. 

Sansa got the message and stood up, shaking before walking out. She really, really, really was never going to live this down.

“See?” said Al, stroking her back.  
Dale looked unconvinced, but happily, did not request she be muzzled for her examination. 

Which was every bit invasive and awful and Sansa had feared.

His first act was to seize her ears and shine a small torch into them. Next came her teeth and then her eyes. Whilst she was still blinking away the spots in her eyes, they tugged a brush with metal spikes down her body to check for parasites or fleas, and then Dale himself had ran his fingers down her body, checking for any lumps. Then came her feet and claws, which forced her to balance as he examined each one.

Then they weighed her, Dale jotted down details on his notepad and murmuring things to his brother, but Sansa could not focus long enough to pick up their conversation. The last bit had been what she was dreading: shots and flea treatment.

As the needle sank into the flesh on the back of her neck, and she cried out unhappily; she’d always hated shots. Al rushed forward to comfort her even as Dale turned white again. Next he dabbed some gunk on her neck, just beneath her collar; it was sticky and trickled down uncomfortably, reminding her of it presence.

Finally her ordeal was over and she shook herself violently as revenge.

Dale staggered backwards and even Al was thrown off balance.

“Willful, though. Like one of the highborn ladies in the Red Keep. Not hostile, but you know when they’re unhappy,” joked Dale after he recovered. 

Al laughed. “You’re the one with the experience with highborn ladies, Dale,” he joked, rather crudely in Sansa’s opinion. 

Dale had laughed along with his brother before resting his hand on her back, looking thoughtful. “What about ‘Lady’? She needs a name right? Lady works,” he said, glancing at his brother. 

Al shrugged. “It works I guess, come on, Lady. We need to get you photographed!”

Another tug on the lead and more dread seeped into her stomach. What if they sold her today? 

Dad would be certain to struggle to get her back then! Although, if the pictures ever got out her life would not be worth living. The grief she’d get from Arya alone…

She was placed in front of a white canvas that they evidently used regularly for photos and Maric, their photographer began snapping photos. The impromptu shoot was interrupted by the entrance of four figures, however. It seemed the photo room was right next to the main office.

“Stannis said you could help me, Davos,”

Oh, no. Oh, no she recognised that man. In fact, she recognised two of the men. Now she knew which Stannis they had been talking about.

Dad’s friend, Robert, had two brothers: Stannis and Renly. Renly was easy to spot. Next to him stood a man she had loved from afar for most of her childhood, Loras Tyrell. Completing the group that had just walked in was, Stannis’ assistant, Davos, and what someone who could only be Loras’s sister, Margaery Tyrell.

If she had been human she would have flushed red with embarrassment at not recognising the Seaworth name.

All four were famous amongst the upper echelons of society. Renly owned part of the Baratheon company, Loras was an athlete that had represented the Reach internationally and Margaery Tyrell had recently married Renly in a surprise wedding, shocking peers and pundits alike. 

Davos Seaworth’s fame was of quite a different nature, but you’d be hard pressed to find anyone that hadn’t heard of him. He was a petty criminal that had staggered across the dour Stannis’ path after he suffered a gruesome injury robbing a Baratheon warehouse. Much to the shock of everyone who’d ever met Stannis, the man had taken pity on Davos and hired him as a personal assistant. 

“It’s my day off today, Renly,” Davos growled. Renly rolled his eyes, smirking at Loras before transforming his face into a mask of surprise.

“You get days off!” he exclaimed. Loras chuckled, but the older man remained unamused.

“Father…,” Maric finally spoke up resting his hand on her. The four turned in surprise, apparently having missed both her and Maric.

“Maric… new inmate, huh?” Davos asked, a small smile lighting up his face. 

Margaery smiled and rushed forward to tickle Sansa’s ears. 

That was surprising. She would not have expected a lady like Margaery Tyrell to take to a huge hulking northern wolf. Margaery’s slender fingers rubbed her ears insistently.

“Oh my, she’s wonderful! Is she for sale?” Margaery asked whilst reaching a point on Sansa’s head that was impossible to itch.

It distracted her for a moment, until Margaery’s question reached her brain and Sansa felt her stomach drop through the floor.

“Oh, uh… eventually. We need to run her through some tests, make sure she’s safe...” Maric’s voice sounded unsure. His eyes flicking towards his father, as if he was looking for reassurance.

He trailed off as Margaery looked at him, her eyes almost brimming with tears.

“Would a hundred and fifty stags change your mind?” she asked.

Maric’s eyes flickered over to his father again.

Stick to your guns, Maric, Sansa thought at him furiously. 

Maric’s mouth opened and closed a few times and Sansa could almost see the cogs in his mind turning, trying to process that amount of money.

Margaery pushed the point. “A hundred and seventy five,” Margaery offered, smiling slyly. 

Sansa glared at her as Maric’s mind reached the inevitable conclusion.

Margaery squealed happily and turned to look at her husband and brother. Sansa could not see her expression but she imagined her smiling in victory.

Renly looked amused, his eyes flickered towards Loras for a moment though. When he saw Loras’ expression matched his own however, Renly relaxed slightly. 

“I shall get her for you, my love. A gift to show my affection,” Renly said with a smile. 

Loras looked even more amused and Margaery let out another squeal, her hands working more furiously into that magical sweet spot.

Traitor, Sansa she thought at Maric furiously, trying in vain to keep composed. 

The older man had smiled at his son. “Your business is really taking of these days if the Baratheons and the Tyrells are buying from you,”

Maric flushed at the implied praise. 

“Davos, I’m going back return to Highgarden soon and I need those accounting books if the Baratheon-Tyrell venture is going to succeed,” warned Renly, serious again. 

Davos sighed. “I’ll have them sent over tomorrow,”

Business concluded, Renly paid for Sansa and the various toys and collars and accessories Margaery picked out. Sansa looked at them and felt herself die a little on the inside.

Okay, she could deal with this. Sansa often saw Renly because he worked with Robert. She tried not to dwell on the fact she saw Robert less and less these days since she’d stopped seeing Joffrey. 

All she needed to do was hope Dad came down south soon. When her family noticed her missing, he’d race down there, right? Surely, Renly would want to drop by to comfort him?

She could deal with it. It would be fine in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for all the support for the first chapter. Thanks again to my beta, [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)

Arya was sat at the dinner table when her mother slipped in, worry etched onto her face and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. 

Her father followed, looking grave. “Arya, have you heard from your sister?”

This was rare. Had dear perfect Sansa broken the agreement she had with their parents about studying in the south? Arya seized on the chance to get her older sister in trouble.

“No, Mum, why?” she asked, with practiced innocence. Her father frowned at her and she felt a bit guilty suddenly. So maybe Sansa had messaged last complaining about school work and saying she was going for a run.

Her mother picked up on her guilt and folded her arms, her lips pursing. Arya recognised the look well.

“Fine! Fine, she said she was going running. Uni was stressing her out but that was last night,” she grumbled. Her parents looked even more worried. Trust Sansa to get herself in trouble, but a small shard of worry pressed into her and Arya couldn’t help but worry too.

“I think Robb has Jeyne’s number?” Arya offered. 

Her mother nodded and Dad was sent to fetch him from where Robb, Jon, and Theon were climbing the walls with Bran. Five minutes later, the family was gathered round the table.

Mum was ringing Jeyne, clicking the speaker on so they could all hear and everyone looked grave. Even Theon looked somber and that was very rare. The phone got through on the second call.

“Hello?” Jeyne seemed sleepy, which was not surprising since Sansa had told Arya that Jeyne had become a bit of a party girl in the past few months. Arya knew it drove her sister up the wall.

“Hello, Jeyne, it’s Catelyn, is Sansa around?” Mother’s voice was strained and the family held their breath collectively. On the other end of the line they heard movement and doors opening and closing. 

Then Jeyne returned sounding worried herself. “No… Mrs Stark her bed hasn’t been slept in,”

After that the kitchen had gone into a whirlwind of activity. She imagined this was how everyone had acted when she’d gone camping that one time without telling anyone. Except she didn’t think Sansa would have been as worried as she was about her. Sansa had probably been waiting for the chance to scold her.

Robb and Jon had already brought out packed overnight bags. Dad was on the phone to Robert, who was sending out Gold Cloaks and free train passes for the King’s Rail. On the other end of the kitchen, her mother was compiling a list of hospitals to ring and Bran was helping by getting Dad’s list of animal shelters together for when he started on the phone.

Arya felt strangely out of place with nothing to do. Theon sat opposite, avoiding her eyes and looking slightly miserable.

“Arya, could you take Rickon to his room please?” her mother asked, glancing up from her list as Rickon made an unsuccessful attempt to raid one of the nearby cupboards. Rickon was eleven and spoilt, the baby of the family. He was not enjoying the attention of the family being on something other than him for once. 

As she dragged him out by the collar of his shirt, she heard her father talking to Robb.

“You’ll be all right heading down with Jon?” he asked in a very serious voice. 

An idea formed in her head and she quickly dropped Rickon off in his room before sprinting to her own. One quick note and a small bag packed later, she dropped onto the garage roof and down into the garden. She snuck round the side of the building and waited whilst Robb and Jon approached. 

They opened the boot and tossed their bags in, but before they could shut it Arya hurled a rock as hard as possible into the wall nearby. Both spun in surprise, the sudden movement triggering their senses into alert mode as Robb looked back uneasily. 

“What was that?” Jon asked, voice low. They both moved over to the wall, looking for the source of the noise. Arya snorted to herself. Even with Sansa missing they were both huge Drama Queens.

She was glad Dad always left his fishing gear in the land ranger now. It always stunk up the car with the smell of old fish and the river, but it would provide cover for her scent as well as space for her body. She opened the side door and climbed in, pushing herself under a particularly bulky bag and pulled the door shut behind her, hoping she’d been quiet enough. Robb and Jon soon returned.

“Weird? Must have been a bird,” Robb was saying as Jon slammed the boot shut.

“Yeah…,” Jon sounded unsure, though and Arya wondered if he knew. The car doors were opened and they both climbed in.

“Ugh, stinks in here, Dad really has to learn to take those damn things out!” Robb exclaimed as he adjusted his seat.  
Arya wriggled until she could see them properly. It was risky. If they did anything more than glance back, they’d see her and then she’d be grounded for weeks.

“Too late to take them out now,” said Jon, twisting round in his seat. Their eyes met and Arya felt her heart stop. He did know! He winked at her as Robb put the keys in the ignition before turning back round and setting up the Sat-nav.

The car jumped to life and set off down the track that led to their house. Back in the olden days, it had been a vast castle that the Starks had ruled. They had even once been kings from. Now only a portion of it was lived in and the rest was reserved for tours and weddings- something that annoyed Arya to no end. If only she’d been born when people still used swords and dragons were still alive.

The ride to the station was smooth going after they reached the main road and what her mother jokingly referred to as civilisation. Whilst the King’s Rail had been built over the old King’s Road the Baratheon Company had only built it as far as Moat Caitlin. Technology at the time meant that maintenance costs would have soared to go further north, but she knew her father was looking into them extending the track all the way up to Castle Black now it was possible. This meant that the car ride to the station was agonisingly long.

Five hours in fact. 

By the time they reached Moat Caitlin, Arya was angry. The entire trip down she had been jostled and poked by fishing rods and boxes of bait. She had all the ammunition she needed to convince Robb and Jon that she was going to go with them, regardless of what they thought. It was dark by the time they pulled up and Robb, who had driven the entire way without a break, staggered off somewhere.

Jon opened the back door with a sigh. “You can come out now,” he said, sounding resigned. She scrambled out, quickly stretching as Jon watched her, half amused. “You travelled just over 300 miles under Dad’s fishing gear just to come with us,” he said, smirking. 

Arya hated that smirk sometimes. It meant he was laughing at you. She glared at him as Robb strolled back, stopping dead when he saw her.

“How….?” he asked, seemingly stumped and Arya burst out laughing at his reaction. Robb glanced towards Jon, who shrugged before following her lead and laughing as well. Even Robb chuckled.

“Can’t seem to get shot of you? Well, it doesn’t matter now, there’s no way we can get you back and make King’s Landing by morning,”

Jon and Arya sobered quickly when they remembered why they were here. Sansa was missing and they had to get to her apartment as quickly as possible. 

Robb shook his head again, his thoughts following theirs and pulled his mobile from his jeans.  
“Damn, no charge… no wonder we haven’t been called back already,” he put it away and ran his hands through his hair.

“The trains have chargers on them,” Arya suggested. She wondered briefly if she was pushing it too much, but Robb caved.

“Come on then. We’ve got about half an hour before the train to King’s Landing gets here. Let’s grab some food, I don’t fancy getting my ear chewed off on an empty stomach,”

The talking-to from her mother had been every bit as bad as she was dreading. Alternating between frantic pleas for her to come straight home and scolding anger for sneaking out, her mother had kept up her tirade for almost half an hour. By the time the train was deep into the Neck and the next station was the Twins, she heard her father growl.

Her mother suggested getting off at Harrenhal and taking a connection to Riverrun, where she could stay with her mother’s family, but her father vetoed the idea, evidently taking the phone from her mother and asking to speak to Robb.

Five minutes later Robb looked very grave as he put the phone back on the charging shelf. 

Arya remained quiet, not wanting Robb to say she was going home. 

Instead his mouth quirked up in amusement. “Well, you get your wish. Dad says we’re to look after you and keep an eye on you. We’ll need your nose if we’re to find your sister,”

She reached over and thumped him in irritation. He laughed and she cursed how her siblings knew how to push her buttons so easily. Was it her fault she just had a better nose than they did? It wasn’t like she was as feral as Sansa was so fond of saying.

That had been that, however. Arya had slept through the vast majority of the train ride, awakening at dawn as the light trickled through the window and the train pulled gently into the station. Robb had rather groggily announced they were there and the three had exited the train onto the platform. It was a cold morning despite the long summer they’d been in.

Arya wrinkled her nose. The closest she’d been to a city was White Harbor which had been a fishing town. There the stench of fish had covered the pollution, but here there was nothing to hide it and the air was heavy with it. She sneezed several times, much to Jon’s amusement.

“How does Sansa stand this place?” she complained and then yawned. 

“Practice, probably,” Robb joked before glancing around and quickly spotting their escort. Renly Baratheon himself. He advanced on them, hand outstretched and Robb took it firmly.

“It’s nice to see you again Robb, how’s the North?” Robb began the introductions, as he and Sansa were the only ones who’d ever really interacted with Renly. The last time they’d been south was when Arya had been about four.

“This is Jon, my half-brother,” he said. Renly’s eyes lit up and Arya could almost read his thoughts.

So this is Ned Stark’s bastard.

Jon seemed to pick up on this too and pulled away just a little too quickly. If Renly noticed he certainly didn’t say anything. She was beginning to understand why Dad kept Jon hidden away. Too much interest, too much potential for discovery. 

When he got to her, he seemed a little taken back. “What?” she asked, a tad belligerently. He had upset Jon and it made her angry. Robb shot her a look and she scowled.

“This is my little sister, Arya. She grumpy because she just woke up,” he explained, patting her on the head. Renly smiled, but still seemed confused as to why she was with them. Robb took the initiative with that as well, explaining how she’d stowed away. Renly laughed and shook her hand and she made sure to stare him in the eyes. Robb coughed awkwardly and they moved on.

Robert had made arrangements for them to stay in the Red Keep itself and had ordered the Gold Cloaks to start searching the city, Renly informed them. Arya was reminded that Renly didn’t know the family secret and wondered what Robert was doing to find her sister in her other form.

Renly seemed nice enough, but Jon and Robb were suspicious of him. She could see it in the stances and smell it in their scents. She felt herself tense up too. Jon shot her a look that said “Be careful here, leave the talking to Robb”

Arya decided to keep her mouth shut. One wrong move and she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere ever again without parental supervision.

“I heard you were recently married,” said Robb as they waited for Renly’s driver. Renly laughed and nodded.

“To Margaery Tyrell, yes. Unfortunately we didn’t have time for the honeymoon with this project between our families,” he explained, showing Robb a picture of his bride on his phone. Robb nodded.

“Here I thought you’d be the confirmed bachelor forever,” he joked as Renly slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Renly chuckled, but Arya sensed him tense up slightly. “So did I, so did I,” He was saved from elaborating by the arrival of his car, which Renly was graciously giving them the use of. Renly himself had to go collect some important documents and told them he would grab a taxi.

When they reached the Red Keep, the sun was shining weakly and the hustle and bustle of the city was beginning. Despite the promise of seeing Robert the moment they arrived, they still found themselves waiting. Apparently there’d been some kind of emergency and Robert’s immediate attention was needed, the aide had not been specific.

Robb was pacing back and forth, looking more stressed than he had in a long time. Even Jon was nervous, his leg bouncing up and down. 

Finally Jon snapped. “Just sit down already, will you,”

Robb paused, opening his mouth to say something that would no doubt cause a fight. Instead he glanced at Arya and sighed, throwing himself into a chair.

“Beats me why the President’s attention is needed. He has tons of aide’s for this very reason,” Robb growled. Arya was reminded that the city was not a place for wolves and even a few hours here had them all out of sorts.

It was well into mid-morning before Robert could see them and they were ushered into his office.

Stood to his left was Barristan Selmy and to his right, Jaime Lannister. Arya could feel her eyes on stalks. Barristan was the famous leader of the Kingsguard, the elite service that protected the president. 

It was named for the group that used to protect the king in the olden days. Jamie was as infamous as Barristan was famous, being a member of the Lannister family that had famously switched sides in the election that had propelled Robert to power. 

Both were rumoured to be formidable fighters, trained in all manner of ways.

“Robb! It’s been sometime, let me look at you boy!” Robert pulled her brother into a bone-crushing hug before holding him at arm’s length.

“Good good, and you must be Jon! Ned’s… well. Let me see you, boy!”

Finally he came to her, lifting her into the air and swinging her around before dropping her down.

“I don’t see you enough these days,” he’d laughed and Arya had realised he was drunk. Robb seemed to sense that as well.

“Barristan, Lannister. Leave us,” Robert barked. Both hesitated, but obediently trooped out, clearly wondering what must be kept from even them. Robert watched them go before handing her the key. 

She didn’t need to be told what to do and quickly locked it.

Robert chuckled slightly. “Well, my Gold Cloaks have seen hide nor hair of her and I’ve got Varys looking for a dog matching her description. He hasn’t heard anything either,”

Robb nodded tersely.

“A fair warning, it’s about to hit the news. Some Gold Cloaks leaked they were searching for her for a bit of coin. With all this focus on the North lately you’re going to be hounded by the press,” Robert’s expression was grim. 

Robb lifted his head up a little higher. “I can handle them. Jon and Arya can do the searching. I’ll stay here and keep the journalists’ busy,” he said. 

“We’ll find her. Arya’s got the best nose of us all any way,” Jon joked lightly, but the mood still felt heavy regardless. 

Robert nodded. “Good plan. I’ll get someone to give you some basic media lessons, I’d never throw you to them raw. They’d eat you alive,”

The meeting had ended after that. Robert offered to arrange a meeting with the head of the Gold Cloaks, Janos Slynt, but Robb had stated he could deal with that well enough. 

Thus Arya and Jon were dispatched to the student quarter. It was just outside of Flea Bottom and the stark difference between the rich and poor areas surprised Arya. 

“So many homeless…,” murmured Jon, frowning. 

Arya saw his meaning, the closer to flea bottom the more beggars they saw.

“I knew things were getting bad down here but this… if Dad knew about this…” he trailed off and shook his head.

But Sansa’s flat was relatively clear of beggars. Arya assumed that was the doing of the two men stood guard outside. They were members of the Gold Cloaks—the city watch. Jon nodded to them and they entered.

Jeyne was out, but a part of Sansa’s agreement of studying in the south had been that her parents had a copy of her key so they got in easily enough.

Per Sansa’s style, her room was spotless, study notes dotting the walls and photos of her and other girls. Arya inhaled and realised how much she’d missed her sister over the past few months. Jon was also breathing deeply.

“Definitely left here willingly and by herself,” he murmured. 

 

Arya sniffed the air too, discerning the different smells. He was right. Sansa had been stressed, though.

They asked the Gold Cloaks on duty where the nearest park was and were pointed in the direction of a modestly sized one by the entrance to Flea Bottom proper. It boasted a lake and a small copse. This seemed like the perfect area for Sansa to go when she needed to run.

They started in the most obvious place. Sansa had to have left a stash of clothes somewhere and the trees seemed the likeliest spot. It took a few minutes of searching, but they found them half buried under a bush.

“So she was here… animal control?” Jon had asked, holding Sansa’s running top up. Arya smirked slightly at the thought of Sansa getting collared then sobered quickly. 

Some of those places destroyed strays.

“I think so… call Dad?”

Jon nodded and put the call through whilst Arya scuffed at the dirt with her shoes, as she went over possible courses of action. 

Jon clicked the phone off. “It doesn’t make sense. Dad’s called all the animal control places in King’s Landing… none of them reported an animal matching Sansa’s description,” 

Arya bit her lip, a plan half forming in her mind. She outlined it quickly to her half brother. She would run in the park after sun down until someone noticed and called it in. Maybe the place that got Sansa would also get her. 

Jon frowned at that. “We should ask Robb. That’s dangerous,”

Robb was getting lessons on talking to the media and although it had taken several hours to track him down, eventually they found him with Tyrion Lannister, a man mostly famous for various scandals that the media retold with relish. The various news outlets of Westeros had labelled him the Imp. 

Jon glared at her for staring, but it didn’t seem to bother Tyrion, he merely cracked a joke and left, stating it was time he had a break anyway. 

Robb was torn when she shared her idea with him.

“It’s our best chance to see who monitors that area for stray dogs,” she whined. 

Jon remained silent, but he and Robb shared a look.

“You’re going to do this even if I say no, aren’t you?” he looked frustrated and then rubbed his eyes. 

Arya nodded at him.

“Very well then. You two are running it by Dad, though,” he informed them, pushing his phone towards the two. 

Arya grimaced and looked at Jon hopefully.

“No chance,” he replied to the unasked question. 

Cowards.

Arya picked up Robb’s phone and dialed the number for home nervously as Robb and Jon made themselves scarce, unwillingly to face Mum’s wrath when it came to potentially putting Arya in danger. 

Arya was taking a bet that Dad would approve the plan and somehow persuade Mum. 

She got through almost immediately, her mother babbling her relief at Arya still being okay and asking for an update. 

Arya got her mother up to speed on their efforts. In the background she heard Dad enter the kitchen.

“What’s this about Robb?” she heard him ask, evidently having only caught the last of Arya’s explanation.  
“Robb’s handling the press. According to Robert, they’re in a feeding frenzy over Sansa’s disappearance. It hasn’t helped that they’ve taken their annual interest in the North as well” Mum explained before Arya could answer.

There was a pause and Arya could almost see the frown on her father’s face as her processed this.

“This is getting dangerous… if the press get wind of our search for a wolf-like dog….” he trailed off and her mother used the opportunity to protest.

“Ned, we have two good leads if we count mine. We could lose Sansa if they come home now,” her voice cracked slightly and she heard her father sigh, sounding pained. Her mother continued, talking to Arya this time. “I phoned the Aegon Memorial Hospital just now and they reported that there is a girl matching Sansa’s description there,” she explained.

“Cat... it can’t be her…,” her father began, but Catelyn cut him off again.

“The hospital says she took a nasty blow to the head! She hasn’t woken yet, they say it looks like she was hit by a car. Please… at least get there,” she begged. 

Arya felt her stomach lurch unhappily at the desperation in her mum’s voice. Werewolves were hard to hurt. They healed fast or they died. Her mother had wolven children and a wolven husband yet sometimes Arya wondered if she truly understood the realities of lycanthropy.

“I will, Mum. Robb can go tomorrow. There’s another thing,” now seemed the best time to bring up her plan.

“Yes?” her mother asked, expectantly.

“I had this idea to run in the park. That way we can see who responds fastest to a loose dog report. Robb and Jon will be there. It’s super safe I promise!” the last words tumbled out rather fast and the line remained silent.

Her mother started to say something, but was cut off by Dad.

“A good plan, but be safe. Take Jon, rather than Robb. If Robb’s talking to the media, he’s too noticeable. Always go in disguise,”

The rest of the phone call was awkward, her mother giving her tips on how to stay safe and reminding her of past lessons. Finally she got away and went to tell Robb and Jon about the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'd by [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) so thanks so much for taking your time to do this.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left support for this story. :)

Contrary to Sansa’s expectations, everything was not fine. Everything, was in fact awful. 

Sansa spent the next few days in the care of the Seaworths’ anyway. Renly had explained to the men that his rooms in the Red Keep were not suitable for a dog of Sansa’s size. Privately, Sansa suspected he was already regretting buying her. The Seaworths were taking the time to run her through a few behavioural tests and defying them now would mean a worse fate than being dragged around as the latest accessory of Margaery Tyrell. 

If they thought she was dangerous… it wasn’t worth thinking about. She could always run away from Margaery—at least she hoped she could.

The first awful revelation had come when she’d discovered why her father hadn’t rung the Seaworths. They weren’t registered as a rescue centre. They were officially a store that relying on microchips to return any lost dogs and not an animal rescue or control centre. They wouldn’t be on father’s list to ring.

The second was that Renly had been serious when he meant return to Highgarden because three days later they were aboard the Fury, the Baratheon’s personal train bound for the ancestral seat of the Tyrell family—just as the news of her disappearance erupted across the news.

Renly, Margaery, Loras, and she were enclosed in the same cabin with the news cycling away in the background when Sansa’s picture was plastered across the screen. After a brief biography, of her life and her habits and the reporter then moved on to detail her father’s brief political career and Sansa felt irritation rise. 

Missing!? She knew where she was: sitting aboard the Fury in a garish, gold collar reduced to being the common house pet of the newest Lady Baratheon.

Sansa snorted angrily, not daring to show more emotion. She fixed her thoughts onto her current problem. She could keep to her wolf form indefinitely, providing she was careful, yet that, in and of itself, could become a problem. A dim memory filtered through. She remembered the talk her father had given to all of them… and the gruesome example he’d used. She couldn’t allow herself to surrender to the wolf or she would never return from it.

“So have the reporters finally stopped hounding you about our little project?” asked Margaery, a lazy smirk on her face. 

Renly groaned and rolled his eyes. “I wish they would. Or at least go bother Stannis, he’s the one Robert put in charge.” He ran his hands through his hair, apparently exhausted at the mention of reporters. 

Loras chuckled. “Still scratching their heads at why a farming technology business and a train construction company could possibly want a partnership?” he asked, wearing a smirk almost identical to Margaery’s.

“I don’t understand why they’ve picked up on this particular deal; we’ve even asked him for a partnership,” muttered Renly, gesturing at the screen as a picture of Ned Stark scrolled past.

The two siblings craned their heads to get a better view as another picture of her father cycled on. It was promptly replaced by a photo of herself. Sansa snorted angrily again.

“Sansa Stark… poor girl, I wonder if she’s okay?” Margaery murmured.

“Oh, I’d imagine she’ll be fine. Eddard’s sons rushed down from Winterfell yesterday, but even before they’d arrived, Robert had the gold cloaks out searching the city,” Renly explained.

“It feels strange to think I don’t know her, the oldest daughter of such an esteemed family. I thought I’d gone out of my way to meet them all. What’s she like?” Margaery had leant forward now, interest dancing in her eyes. Renly chuckled.

“Very straight I’d imagine,” said Loras, breaking his silence. 

Sansa pouted at the implied insult even if she hadn’t quite gotten its meaning.

“She’s nice, sweet. A true lady, raised the old way by septas and her lady mother,” Renly’s voice was curiously neutral, like the voices of the other girls when they found out how she’d been raised.

Sansa got it. She was naive and she didn’t like drinking… seriously people needed to get over it.

“Probably not going to get far if we ever do meet then,” sighed Margaery. 

Sansa snorted. Clearly Margaery wasn’t worth befriending if partying and drinking were so important.

“Speaking of ladies, how’s your new pet doing?” asked Loras. 

Margaery’s hand fell onto Sansa’s back and stroked gently. “She seems a little under the weather; she must be unhappy with being aboard the train,” Margaery replied.

Nope, just dreading the trek back home and the inevitable comments and teasing and the sheer amount of collars she was going to find in her belongings over the next couple of years, Sansa thought angrily, glaring in Margaery’s direction. 

Margaery’s hand reached a magical place behind her ears again and Sansa temporarily surrendered herself to it, acknowledging there were some benefits to being in this predicament at least.

They reached Highgarden in the late evening and Sansa was formally introduced to Mace and Olenna Tyrell as “Lady”.

Sansa was not ignorant of the great families of Westeros. She was well aware of the reputation of the various Tyrell players. Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, was considered the most ruthless businesswoman of her day.

She had supposedly retired, allowing her son and his sons to take the reigns of the business she had taken from small farming collective to international conglomerate. Sansa, like the rest of her family, found this hard to believe. Her mother was almost certain Olenna was still calling the shots.

“By the seven,” Mace exclaimed, examining her. 

Olenna pursed her lips and Sansa read disapproval. Margaery noticed too.

“How about you take Lady for a run, Mace whilst I catch up with Margaery about her trip to King’s Landing.” Olenna phrased it as a polite suggestion, but Mace reacted as if he’d been given an order. Sansa would have smiled if she could. Her mother was rarely wrong when it came to business speculation.

Sansa read the displeasure in her tone.

“Really, Margaery, could you not find a more unsuitable pet?” Olenna said as Mace ambled away, pulling Sansa along.

“Unsuitable… heh… fine dog, fine dog indeed,” he mumbled to himself, but remained quiet after. Their walk took them through exquisite gardens and past beautifully landscaped open areas. She’d heard rumours of Highgarden beauty and seeing it through her wolf eyes did nothing to detract from it. 

They made their way back, Sansa feeling slightly less happy once Mace began sweating. 

From the looks of the two ladies their talk had not been a happy one. Olenna Tyrell sipped her tea in a tight controlled way that Sansa fancied implied a slap in the face every time it touched her lips. Margaery sat with her arms and legs folded together politely. A small smile bloomed across her face the moment she set eyes on her pet trotting towards them. She gave every sign of ignoring her grandmother. 

“Your new pet is a fine dog. Very well behaved! Well picked out, my daughter,” Mace blustered, slightly more out of breath than he had right to be. 

Margaery stood and took Sansa’s leash. “Thank you, Daddy,” she enthused happily, kissing him on the cheek and shooting her grandmother a look that could have killed. 

Olenna took another vicious sip of her tea in return. “Well, the servants did as you asked and a cleared space in the kennel, dear. Perhaps you could drop your new pet off there and head up too dinner?” the older woman suggested as Mace lowered himself into his chair. 

Margaery pursed her lips. “Head up? Is dinner no longer held in the main hall?” she asked, eyes sparkling dangerously in a way that made Sansa want to bolt. 

Olenna tilted her head, feigning forgetfulness and innocence for a moment. “Ah, of course, I arranged for you and your husband to share dinner in your rooms. No doubt after the hustle of King’s Landing you’ll be eager for some time alone with him,” Olenna’s eyes had taken on the same gleam as Margaery’s and Sansa sensed a minefield.

She wasn’t the only one; even the fat Mace Tyrell began beating a hasty retreat. Olenna waved him back imperiously and he sat down looking trapped.

Margaery’s lips pursed like Sansa’s mother’s did when she was so angry even shouting wouldn’t begin to express her feelings. 

Sansa braced for the explosion and in the corner of her eye she saw Mace doing the same. 

“Of course, Grandmother, you always make such wonderful suggestions. I’ll go immediately,” Margaery said, with a gracious smile. 

Sansa was amazed. To swallow back such anger…was she reading this situation wrong somehow?

Margaery tugged on the leash and began to walk away with her head held high. Sansa scrambled after her. The walk to the kennels was short, but the moment Sansa saw the building, she decided she was having absolutely nothing to do with them. Margaery opened the gate and attempted to walk her in.

Sansa sat down causing Margaery to stumble slightly.

“Come on, Lady,” she urged gently, giving the leash an experimental tug. Sansa remained immobile and threw in a heartbroken look for effect. Margaery paused, chewing her lips, clearly hesitant. 

Sansa was without mercy. Another heartbroken look with a whine of confusion thrown in for good measure. Margaery looked even more torn. Give her a few seconds…

Her temporary owner glanced around the kennels, no doubt noting the lengthening shadows and slight chill in the air. She sighed heavily. “Lady, you will get me into so much trouble. Fine! You can sleep in my room but please behave yourself!”

She barked happily and Margaery shook her head, amusement playing across her face for a moment.

“You’re a clever thing, aren’t you?” she murmured, rubbing Sansa’s ears briefly before shutting the gate and leading Sansa into the house itself.

Margaery’s grandmother had been true to her word and inside Margaery and Renly’s room, they found Renly with what seemed like a whole banquet’s worth of food. 

Renly seemed to be well into a bottle of wine. “Margaery!” he exclaimed as he stood up, somewhat unsteadily. He eyed Sansa warily, but then seemed to mentally move on.

“Dear husband, shall we have dinner together?” asked Margaery sweetly, leading Sansa over to the balcony. 

Renly shuffled awkwardly as Margaery pushed her out into the night’s air, a indecipherable look on her face. Sansa strained her ears to hear what was happening.

“See about that, I promised Loras I’d…” he was cut off by Margaery kissing him.

Sansa heard the sound of hands on clothing and a body hitting a chair backwards.

No, no, no! They couldn’t have sex! Not whilst she was here!

“I...I’ve had a lot wine, see…” Again his excuses were cut off by a kiss and Sansa heard him struggle slightly.

“Renly, I agreed to this farce of a marriage to shut my grandmother up, but the whole point of the thing was to make it believable. Most brides lose their virginity on their wedding night,” Margaery said archly. 

There was a rustle and the chair stopped creaking and Renly sighed in defeat. “I know… give me a few more weeks? Please?” he pleaded. 

Margaery snorted and the chair creaked as the weight on it was removed, presumably Renly had gotten up now. There was further shuffling and the sound of a door opening and then closing and Renly’s footsteps heading away.

Sansa gave a mental sigh of relief.

Five minutes later the door to the balcony opened and Margaery stuck her head out, smiling when she saw her. “Come in, Lady,” she said. Sansa got to her paws and followed her obediently. Margaery looked as if she had been crying and that surprised her. Sansa was unsure of what had just transpired. Farce of a marriage? Did Renly and Margaery not like one another?

That couldn’t be true. They were the darlings of the media; the press in King’s Landing were forever going on about how good they looked together and how they were the perfect couple. Was it all a lie? 

She was pulled from her daydream by Margaery stripping unceremoniously.

Sansa quickly made herself busy at the opposite side of the room, pretending to industriously sniff at a corner. It wasn’t a particularly interesting corner, but it beat seeing someone she’d have to interact with in the future completely naked. The sound of the TV pulled her from the corner, despite Margaery’s continued nakedness; the news story was about her.

Of course, it was.

“You know, Lady, I think she’s cute,” Margaery murmured. Margaery giggled suddenly, startling Sansa with a sudden change of behaviour. “Oh my, It’s a shame I never met her before I married Renly.” She chuckled. 

Sansa was confused. Just what did she mean by that!?

“Perhaps not though, a girl as cute as that. I’d have been tempted, Lady, I’d have been tempted,” she murmured, stroking Sansa’s side as she switched the TV.

Oh.

Sansa’s mind raced. Surely Margaery couldn’t be…? Could she? Would that mean Renly was also? He had mentioned seeing Loras before he’d rushed out. It would explain his reluctance to… consummate his marriage. Sansa was glad she was not human right now or you’d be able to fry an egg on her face. 

This must have been what made Olenna so angry. She obviously disapproved of Renly and Loras’s relationship and Margaery had married Renly to ensure Loras and he could always be together. 

That was so romantic!

She ended up lying by Margaery on the bed, her new ‘owner’ clutching a fist full of her fur. She slept soundly, snorting in her sleep when Sansa moved away and transformed. 

It felt like a luxury to be back in human form again. She stretched happily. 

Margaery rolled over and Sansa was reminded of her mission.

Her hand rose to scratch her neck and she realised she was still wearing Lady’s collar. It was scary to think she’d forgotten about it. Sansa rubbed it slightly when she heard Margaery move again. Instinct drove her forward and she stepped quickly into the shadows, holding her breath.

“Lady?” called a sleepy voice. Sansa froze before jingling the collar slightly. Margaery sighed happily and Sansa heard her head hit the pillow again. Right.

She quickly searched the various cupboards. Skirts. Horribly impractical dresses. Good for fancy balls and formal dinners, bad for a mad dash across the country. Damn, did this woman not own any trousers? Perhaps she should steal some from the servants. She’d need some pocket change too…

Sansa chewed her lip. She could only get so far in her wolf form before she’d need to rely on more mundane transport. Okay, so her escape was going to take more time. It would take planning, preparation. She remembered what her father and mother had drummed into her since her first transformation: don’t do anything too strange; don’t give people reason to examine you too closely; stay hidden in plain sight.

It would be much easier to transform back and insist she knew nothing of the few days in between her disappearing from King’s Landing and appearing in Highgarden. She could even let her wolf carry her as far as possible, then transform back, playing a hysterical girl with no memory of her disappearance. It was an easy way out—one that would create vast amounts of problems later on. The speculation would never stop; journalists and reporters would never quit hounding her; and there would always be one or two that would never believe her amnesia story.

She’d be forced to retreat from the south forever. She would have to stay in the North under her father’s watchful eye, marry a northern lord who knew of the legacy the Children had passed to the Starks… her life that she had built for herself would be over.

 

No, she was going to get back by herself. She’d turn up at her apartment wondering what all the fuss was about and claim she’d been staying with a friend… or a lover. It would allow the press its fair share of scandal and they’d back off the moment something else interesting happened.

She dropped back to the floor and transformed, becoming the wolf once more. Sansa paused as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A great hulking beast with auburn fur stared back at her and she cringed. How could she be mistaken for an innocent house pet when this form made her look so monstrous?

She turned away and trotted back through the bedroom to discover Margaery had kicked her sheets off in the night, exposing herself to Sansa. Margaery was beautiful. Pale skin that almost glowed where the moonlight touched it, slender long legs. Sansa found herself captivated.

Vague guilt settled in Sansa’s stomach at her voyeurism, however unintentional it had been.

Renly came back at 3am, not even attempting to be quiet. At first, she’d thought him rude and careless, but Margaery hadn’t even stirred when he pulled off his boots and socks and dumped them on the floor with a clatter. The man stopped dead at the sight of Sansa curled up at the foot of the bed, his head tilting slightly. He lowered himself down gently beside her.

“Hello, Lady,” he whispered, stroking her gently. She could smell Loras all over him. “Are you guarding Margaery? Good job, girl, she needs guarding you know?” 

Sansa thought he looked sad at that, even if he made little-to-no sense. Maybe he was just thankful for what Margaery had done for him. 

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Lady. It’s all a mess. A stupid mess and all because of Olenna and Stannis and their bloody stupid pride,” he whispered, 

Sansa could see tears rolling down his face. She had not expected this. She moved forward to comfort him and he chuckled slightly.

“I think my wife chose well when she chose you,” he said, before getting up and pulling his shirt over his head and removing his trousers. 

Thank the gods for boxer shorts! Although even Renly in his boxers was reminding Sansa that before she’d had a crush on Loras, she used to follow Renly about like a lost puppy. After some shuffling of positions to allow Renly to curl up on his side of the bed, Sansa drifted back off to sleep.

Both Renly and Margaery were heavy sleepers. They also didn’t rise until well past noon and Sansa used the time to check the lock on their bedroom door and take full advantage of their en suite bathroom facilities. She grabbed a quick shower to make herself feel at least vaguely clean and quickly dried herself off. If Renly or Margaery noticed their shower had been used she doubted their first assumption would be that their dog was secretly a werewolf.

After making sure everything was put back neatly, she did some basic stretches and exercises, hoping that too much time in her wolf form wouldn’t damage any of her human instincts. It was possible after all; it had happened before. The last thing she needed to worry about was her humanity.

Next she’d padded about the room quickly, searching Renly’s discarded clothes for anything she could use for her escape plan. His wallet yielded a few silver stags, but little else. All his cards had “see I.D” written on them. She supposed it was possible she could steal his trousers, though…

She decided against it. Renly’s trousers were well made and tailored to him. Whilst she was only a couple of inches shorter than him, he had a thicker waist. Sansa would look completely ridiculous and that would attract attention. She did, however, stash the stags away into a loose floorboard she’d discovered an hour previously.

Apart from her quick break from her wolf form, her morning was completely uneventful as Renly had locked the door when he’d gotten back to their rooms. Two lots of servants had knocked during the course of the morning and both had been met with a snort or a snore. It amused Sansa. If she were home Father and Mother would have woken them at about six for a morning run; here it seemed everyone slept until the afternoon.

Once the clock reached half past twelve and Sansa had grown bored with searching her prison, she turned her attention to the sleeping couple, a flicker of mischief running through her. She shouldn’t, such an act would be more suitable to Arya… She backed up her wolf form, and then raced forward. Sailing through the air, she landed directly in between the two sleepers causing them to bounce. Renly was launched clear of the bed with a cry whilst Margaery managed to remain on, just barely. The air was filled with grumbled curses as the two, still mostly asleep, tried to figure out what had happened.

“Lady!” exclaimed Margaery, her thoughts arriving at the inevitable conclusion. 

Renly stood up rubbing his elbow, looking somewhat offended. “It is half past twelve, Margaery, I expect she was bored,” he said. 

Sansa felt a bit guilty as she saw his elbow was bleeding slightly. 

Margaery huffed. “Fine, we’d better get dressed. Grandmother will be wondering where we are,”

They took their time dressing. Sansa was the first one to admit that you required time to prepare yourself in the morning. She frequently spent almost an hour grooming herself and selecting the right outfit. Arya always scoffed at her, leaving the house with ruffled hair and an old t-shirt that had looked only vaguely clean.

Renly and Margaery took it to the extremes. They co-ordinated. Even their accessories had accessories. By the time they had started moving, it was almost three o’clock and Sansa had to question herself why they had even bothered because they day was almost over now.

“I’m thinking of taking Lady for a walk through the gardens,” Margaery said. 

Renly bent down to stroke her ears. He wasn’t as good at it as Margaery.“Loras and I will come with you. It will be nice to be out from underneath your Grandmother’s prying eyes,”

Margaery chuckled and pulled the leash from a cabinet before glancing at Sansa. 

She fancied Margaery was considering leaving it behind. Sansa had taken enough care to be extremely well-behaved around everyone so far.

“I doubt we’ll need it,” Margaery said in reply to a question not asked and dropped it back onto the cabinet. 

Renly dispatched a quick text message to Loras and the picked him up by the stables. 

Loras, apparently, knew what a decent time to get up was. “I’m surprised you two aren’t still asleep,” he joked, smiling brightly at them. Or rather at Renly. 

How had Sansa missed it? 

Margaery tapped his arm lightly.

“We had an alarm clock,” said Renly, sounding half amused and half irritated. 

Loras laughed allowed and knelt in front of her, grinning. “Well done, Lady! I expect you to get them up before noon tomorrow!”

Renly slapped him on the shoulder as he rose and the trio burst into laughter before heading off on their walk.

Sansa used the opportunity to run ahead, letting a muscles stretch. If there was one good thing about her predicament, it was that she was at least away from King’s Landing, one of the most polluted places in the Seven Kingdom’s. It was fun really. A beautiful day, the gardens were gorgeous and she could run free. She caught herself before she started chasing rabbits however.

“Don’t go too far, Lady!” she heard Margaery yell as she dropped out of their view. Sansa paused for a moment and took in the sights and smells. Highgarden was truly beautiful. Its fabled flowers were in full bloom and the lake glittered and gleamed in the sunlight.

Margaery caught her up, panting slightly, but it seemed Renly and Loras had left her. Margaery crashed to the ground next to her and sighed.

“I imagine you are happy to be outside and not cooped up in my room? Well, at least I’ll get to spend a lot of time with you over the next month. Renly starts his project with Willas tomorrow,” she murmured before throwing her arms around Sansa’s neck.

The rest of the day was spent by the impressive Tyrell greenhouses with Margaery’s father and older brothers bar Loras. Mace was blustering away about the project whilst Garlan and Willas listened quietly. The oldest one, Willas, was running his hands through her fur almost absentmindedly. 

Sansa liked Willas; he was quiet and contained. He walked with a limp and Sansa recalled hearing of the incident in which the brother of Doran Martell, the owner of the Sunspear Restaurant franchise, had injured him whilst the two had raced cars. It had been an accident, but the two families had been in a cold war since. Odd, considering the Tyrell’s sold the food the Martells cooked to them. 

Dinner was apparently a very formal affair tonight as Mace wanted to make a spectacle of the project being officially opened and as such, Sansa had been banned from the main hall whilst it was in session. Margaery had seemed reluctant to drop her off at the newly refurbished kennels, but she had done so. Sansa didn’t mind too much about the kennels however.

They kennels had been hastily refurbished after Margaery had messaged ahead to say she was bringing back a pet. Sansa assumed she had not included the size or breed and someone on the design team had made a very big leap in judgement that perhaps that pet would be something akin to the lapdogs the ladies in the capital were partial too.

The result was a wall at waist height separating Sansa from freedom. 

Tonight she intended to search for suitable escape clothes and it seemed the whole manor would be distracted with Mace’s celebratory meal and ensuing party.

As she had guessed, the servants’ wing was devoid of life. The few who weren’t on duty would be trying to sneak a peek at the party and grab some food when they thought nobody was watching. Thankfully someone had left a ground floor window open in the laundry area, a blessing really. Sansa leapt in, easily clearing the ledge and had transformed before donning a servant’s uniform. A quick scan located several suitable garments for her escape and she quickly gathered them up and placed them in a laundry basket.  
When Sansa had been young, her father had taught them all how to avoid detection and pull off disguises. Such a thing was necessary for their survival in an increasingly modern and hostile world. A younger, more naive Sansa had resented it. She’s wanted to go south, be normal, and find friends in the posh southern ladies. Still she had viewed the lessons as a stepping stone. If her father was impressed with her ability to seem completely human, she was more likely to be allowed to go south.

The number one rule of pulling of a disguise was looking like you knew what you were doing and where you were going. Acting hesitantly or lost was a huge red flag and so, after ensuring her hair was tucked neatly beneath a cap, she took the assortment of clothes and stepped boldly into the corridor.

No one was about thankfully. After another minute of searching, Sansa located the laundry carts. She promptly piled her loot into one and strode off into the halls. Like most old manors, the castle had a separate system of hallways for the servants and this would be Sansa’s biggest obstacle. Whilst she knew the way to Margaery’s room in the main area, the servants’ area was another matter. 

Again Lady Luck was on her side, and she found a map, laminated, and printed on the wall by a set of health and safety regulations. She read both and set off, head held high like she had every right in the world to be there. She saw nobody and nobody saw her. Reaching the door to the wing Margaery’s rooms were in, she once again bit the bullet and stepped out. Nobody. The gods were truly smiling on her tonight it seemed.

She strode on and entered Margaery’s room, being sure to knock first. It was empty as expected and she worked fast, rolling her escape clothes into a bundle and hiding them with the stags she had taken from Renly. Providing nothing bad happened, it wouldn’t be long before she could make ready for her escape—not a moment too soon either.

She returned the servants’ equipment and retransformed before leaping back through the window she’d entered by. All in all it had taken an hour. Hopefully nobody had noticed Lady’s escape from the kennel. If they had, however, it could be played of as the antics of a rather clever dog. She trotted back round towards it before she heard Olenna Tyrell speaking on the phone. She pressed herself into the shadows and listened, ears pricked.

“I am aware of the problem the marriage has posed…. there is nothing I can do about it,”

She seemed to be on the phone to someone, no doubt venting more irritation that her granddaughter had married her grandson’s lover. Olenna was silent as the person on the other end of the line spoke.

“Well, what do you suggest? Margaery is much like me in that respect, she has a self-preservation instinct and Joffrey is… Of course, far be it from me to speak ill of the Prime Minister’s son.”

The person must have spoke for some time because Olenna did not answer for another few minutes. “There is still a window of opportunity here. The Stark girl is missing and no betrothal can be made without her turning up,”

The person’s reply was brief; Olenna spoke again almost immediately.

“I don’t know where she is. I assumed you would. Look into it. There are very few men able to hide from you,”

Sansa wondered who they suspected had her.

“It doesn’t matter. I shall not place Loras in danger like that! I do not care…. but someone so close to the family… I know… yes. Very well, should you have guessed wrong I will see you destroyed, do you understand me?” She ended the call and slipped the phone into a pocket of her dress. She seemed thoughtful. Her eyes came to rest on the shadows Sansa had hidden in.

“I know you’re there, beast,” She called and Sansa moved forward, trying to look as small as possible. Olenna chuckled.

“You’re fooling no one. You are no mere house pet, I’ll wager. Some kind of hunting dog or perhaps a war dog. No accounting for taste I suppose. Be off with you!”

Sansa scuttled away quickly, thinking about what she had just overheard and how she fit into it.


	4. Chapter 4

The Aegon Memorial Hospital was named after Aegon V, was a very old building, thought to have been built in the last years of his reign. Robb allowed himself to study the architecture as he waited. The hospital administrator had been eager to please when Robert’s aides had made contact.

Now he was standing in a small waiting room. It was hot in here, almost unbearably so. He found himself tugging at his shirt collar before reminding himself of Lannister’s lessons: don’t show anything even close to nervousness or weakness. He pulled a face at his reflection in the window and allowed his hand to drop.

Outside of his small room there came sounds of screaming, and several nurses rushed past the door. Their movement made him spin slightly, he craned his head to watch them disappear around the corner into the A&E department.

He sighed.

The hospital was hopelessly overcrowded. He’d done some reading on the state of King’s Landing at Tyrion’s request. It’s strained medical services featured strongly. Why wasn’t Robert doing anything about this?

This would not be tolerated in the North.

More screams now, except closer and accompanied by shouting and sounds of violence. More nurses rushed past and he found himself stepping out of his small waiting room. He couldn’t bear not being of use any longer.

Robb assessed the situation quickly. Two male nurses had a scruffy looking man with dirty bandages around his head pinned down. He struggled beneath their weight. Nearby another would-be patient had also attempted to access the hospital proper. He hadn’t gotten far and a nurse was attempting to stop him.

Even from where Robb stood he could see the man’s legs were almost visibly rotting. The nurse was speaking quietly to her patient when he screamed again and threw her back. He made another attempt to get away but stumbled and fell to the floor.

“No! No! You ain’t takin’ mah leg!” yelled the man around a ruined mouth. He began struggling to get back up.

Robb hurried over, concerned. The nurse was on her feet when Robb reached the small scrum. She regarded him warily, clearly taking in the expensive suit--A gift from Robert that Robb was coming to dislike with a passion.

“May I help?” he asked, meeting her eyes. They were dark brown and shining with irritation. For a moment Robb thought she would turn down his offer, but her patient attempted to get to his feet again and she nodded.

“Hold him down for me. I need to sedate him,” she explained. 

Robb glanced down, eyes seeking out her name tag, but found the white uniform she wore had been torn. He decided her name could wait.

Wasting no more time, he spun around and knelt next to the man. Robb was taller and heavier with more muscle and as much as his captive struggled, the patient couldn’t prevent the nurse from administering a sedative. 

Robb held him until the patient began to snore, then let him go slowly. Behind him the nurse was shooting quick commands off to her coworkers who had brought the other patient under control as well.

Through the hospital door Robb saw a mass of people, some were being restrained by security guards and it seemed there were even Gold Cloaks shoving their way through the crowds.

“We had a group of patients rush us,” the nurse said quietly from next to him. Like Robb, she was staring out into the overworked department. 

“Does that happen often?” he asked, tearing his eyes away as a Gold Cloak casually swung his baton into the face of an elderly man. The nurse’s fists clenched visibly and she seemed to force herself to look away and pay full attention to Robb.

“I am Talisa Maegyr. I’m a nurse here, if you hadn’t guessed. The answer to your question is, yes. We have to constantly guard this door. As well as any other way into the wards. Thieves know the medicine we have here is like gold on the streets,.”

Robb felt anger rise to his throat again and it must have shown on his face despite his best efforts because Talisa nodded, almost approvingly. 

Then she examined him. “Your jacket and shirt are ruined,” she noted. 

Robb glanced down and groaned. Mud and blood were smeared across his torso. 

Talisa shook her head. “I’ll find you something else to wear. No doubt you have access to people who can get it clean,” Then Talisa turned and hurried off and Robb stepped back into his waiting room, hoping the administrator wouldn’t return before Talisa did.

The moment that thought ran through his head, the man he was waiting for stepped through the door. He stopped dead at the sight of his charge.

Robb offered him a weak smile. 

Dr. Pycelle did not smile back. 

“You er… had a little trouble in the hallway,” he explained, pointing in the vague direction of A&E. 

“I see. You chose to involve yourself in it?” Dr. Pycelle’s voice was quiet and weak. He certainly showed his age. 

Robb nodded. “It’s my duty to help out wherever possible,” he replied.

Pycelle gave him a hard look.

Talisa returned, holding a shirt. Pycelle rounded on her quickly, much to Robb’s distaste.

“Ms. Maegyr, I suppose you think it’s fitting that an honoured guest of this hospital was exposed to the ruffians that swarm us?” 

Robb found himself scowling at the back of Pycelle’s head as Talisa met his gaze head on.

“It was not my intention to, Dr Pycelle. We had another rush for the wards and your guest decided to help the hospital staff,” she explained evenly. 

Robb could see the dislike in her face, however. 

Pycelle huffed dismissively.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been impolite to our visitors, Ms. Maegyr. If we were not so understaffed in the first place I would be forced to let you go.” Pycelle’s voice nearly reached a shout and Robb felt compelled to step in.

“Actually, I found Ms. Maegyr to be extremely polite. She even took the time to replace my soiled clothing,” Robb argued, drawing upon Tyrion’s lesson in speaking to people you didn’t like, but nevertheless needed to not offend.

Pycelle glanced back at Robb and took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “It seems you’ve somehow impressed Mr. Stark. Therefore, Ms. Maegyr, you can show him to the coma ward and see to it he gets a briefing on our Jane Doe there,” Pycelle’s tone was clipped and he swept out, but not before thrusting a stack of folders into Talisa’s hands, Robb assumed these were the patients that had similarities to Sansa.  
She shook her head in disgust before turning on Robb. “You shouldn’t have bothered. Pycelle doesn’t care about the state of this hospital, or the people who seek its care.” 

“I noticed. The conditions here are… not what I expected,” Robb found himself replying. 

Talisa shook her head again and then flicked open one of the folders she’d been given before frowning in confusion.

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, you’re looking for your sister?” she asked, not glancing up from the folder.

“Call me Robb and yes… Sansa has been missing for a few days now,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He was fairly certain it was her wolf form that had gotten her in trouble, but it would be odd not to be worried when looking for a missing relative in a hospital.

Talisa shot him a look of pity before looking back to the folder and tutting.

“This isn’t your sister, unless she decided to join a vicious street gang in the time she spent here,” she finally said, handing Robb a photo she had extracted from the first page. He noted that she handed it to him she took care to ensure he couldn’t see anymore of the file. 

It had only been the pressure of Robert’s name that had let him come here at all. The PRime Minister’s aides were nothing if not persuasive. It seemed Robert’s influence only extended to a photo though.

Robb took it and examined it. The woman shown within was several years older than Sansa and whilst she did have red hair the similarities ended there. Her face showed signs of malnutrition and her hair was much redder than Sansa’s. “No, you’re right. This isn’t her. What did you mean about street gang?” he asked. Talisa tucked the photo back into its folder and then checked her watch.

“Listen, it’s close to my shift ending. Will you meet me in the hospital cafe? I’ll tell you all you need to know and more about the Wildlings,” she asked, offering him the borrowed shirt.

Robb was about to comment on her forwardness then thought better of it. He lifted the shirt from her hands and smiled. “Of course, as long as you let me pay for the coffee,” 

Talisa blushed slightly before smiling. “I’m a nurse in King’s Landing and I just worked a double shift. I’m not saying no to free coffee. I’ll see you there soon,”

Then she hurried away, leaving Robb to change into the shirt and find the cafe.

Before he went there however, he had to break the news to his mother. No doubt father would have been preparing her for the let down but he still felt his gut twist. Father would tell Jon and Arya from there.

The hospital cafe was a hive of activity, but five minutes of patient waiting had allowed him to seize a table close to the window and an automatic coffee machine purporting to be some brand from Essos he’d never heard of.

As predicted his mother had been heartbroken to learn that he had not found Sansa. His father had thanked him for going. The call had been short and extremely unpleasant.

Talisa arrived soon after and Robb graciously poured her some before they retook their seats. Talisa took a long drink and then sighed.

“I needed that,” she sighed. Robb smiled at her and smiled back.

“So, the Wildlings?” he found himself asking. 

Talisa took another drink. “The newest, baddest street gang on the block. Some guy turned up claiming to be a Black Brother and told all the gangs that he’d help them get revenge on the government for kicking them out of his houses. That’s the simplest explanation,”

Talisa gestured out of the window and into the distance. 

Robb tried to follow to where she was directing his attention. 

His confusion must have shown and she elaborated., “The President sold all of the crown-owned land between the docks and Aegon’s Hill to Tywin Lannister and Casterly Rock. The Lannisters decided to flatten it all and build huge luxury homes there for several merchants who are big in Essos and wanted to snag fancy homes in Westeros,”

Robb felt bile rise to his throat and he quickly took a sip of his coffee. “Lannisters…” he found himself muttering bitterly. 

Talisa chuckled.

“Why didn’t they fight the land sale? Protest their houses being knocked down?” Robb felt sick with anger. It seemed the Lannisters made him angry very easily. Be it their sleazy deals or their condonement of Joffery’s behaviour around Sansa and attempt to have Arya arrested.

“They did,” said Talisa. For a moment her eyes seemed to lose focus as if she were remembering something. Then she came back to the present and Robb caught her face twisting in disgust again. She turned to him and rubbed her head. “The residents staged a sit-in, chained themselves to fences, that sort of thing. At first the media gave them good coverage praising their bravery at standing up to the establishment and it seemed… it seemed like something might change.”

Talisa paused and drank the rest of her coffee. Robb got her another one without asking and she thanked him quietly. “It went south very fast. After the first month media coverage began to turn slowly. Reports of attacks by the protestors on Gold Cloaks… reports of women being raped and drug deals. The media made out that what had started as a protest had become dominated by gangs who had sort to make a lawless area of the city,”

Robb scowled.

Talisa made an affirming nod. “Enough people believed it and the Gold Cloaks tried to move in with force. That was when the Wildlings first turned up. This Black Brother claimed that a man could only have what he could defend. He persuaded them to fight; he bought guns and other weapons; and for the next three months that area became a war zone,”

Now Robb guiltily remembered reading about it in the paper and his own father yelling down the phone to Robert. He remembered now that his father had told Robert to withdraw his support from the Lannisters. Robb had dismissed it out of hand at the time, King’s Landing had been far away and easy to ignore. Now he could see the injustice up close and it made him sick.

“Well, after a while a huge fire broke out and leveled the houses anyway. I treated people who came out of that blaze. The inferno burned for days and in the end the Wildlings, as they became known then, were forced out into Flea Bottom. No one cares about gangs in Flea Bottom and they soon settled in there.”

Robb nodded. “That’s how they got started?” he asked.

“The idea was planted there. This Black Brother managed to convince the Flea Bottom gangs to join and bolster his numbers. He’s a serious threat and no one seems to care. We see double the gang violence patients here now than before he arrived. People have told me that in Flea Bottom speaking out against the Wildlings is death.”

“How did Robert let it get this bad?” Robb asked almost rhetorically.

Talisa sighed and they settled down in silence, drinking their coffee.

“What’s the North like?” Talisa asked, suddenly. 

“I’m from Volantis… Even King’s Landing is strange to me sometimes, but the North… the people here would have you believe the Northerners can all turn into wolves and bears or command the weather itself,” she laughed and Robb grinned, although his heart pounded.  
Northern legends had once been based in truth. His wolf form being proof of that. The Mormont’s still possessed the ability to transform into bears and he’d heard dark rumours about the Bolton family and the claim they could wear the skin of a man they had flayed and steal his appearance and even his memories.

Old Nan had told them all that when the First Men had made their truce with the Children of the Forest they’d learnt some magic from them. Robb remembered Old Nan’s stories with fondness and a little bit of fear -- his father had warned him not dismiss Old Nan’s stories easily.

Robb became aware Talisa was looking at him expectantly. He felt himself blush. “Sorry, you had me thinking back to the stories we used to tell on dark and stormy night about all the monsters that supposedly roamed the North,” Robb explained.

“Really? Tell me.”

Robb began sharing some of his childhood stories and Talisa seemed to lap them up and around them the cafe emptied and filled up again as the night shift arrived. Robb realised he was having fun, even if the various staff members were shooting them odd looks the entire time. He supposed not many people spent this long having this much fun here. Most people around them seemed to be on a mission to drink as much coffee as possible.

“Mr. Stark. Care to explain why a simple hospital visit has taken you over four hours?” a cultured and familiar voice addressed him. He glanced towards its source and found himself looking at Tyrion Lannister. Across the table, Talisa straightened up and arranged her face into a carefully neutral expression.

“My lady,” Tyrion murmured, giving her a small bow. Tyrion was clearly trying to be polite but Robb knew enough about Talisa now that she resented the upper class, implying she could pass for one would rile her up.

Talisa gave him the tiniest nod in return before ignoring him completely.

“I have to go, Robb. It has been nice meeting you… perhaps some other time?” There was an invitation in her voice and Robb tried not to blush again.

“Of course,” he replied, fumbling for his phone. 

Talisa took it with a smile and put her number in before handing it back.

“After five of course, Mr. Stark,” There was a playful smile on her face and Robb returned it. Then Talisa rose to her feet and left leaving Robb alone with Tyrion.

“Isn’t a hospital seems odd place to have a date?” Tyrion asked in a teasing tone.

He shot a glare at the smaller man.

“Enough from you, Lannister. I want to be getting back to the Red Keep now,”

They made their way through the halls and towards the exit. Tyrion had told Bronn to wait for them by the front.

“A pretty girl I suppose. From Volantis?” Tyrion enquired, clearly not willing to let the matter drop. 

Robb gritted his teeth. “None of your business,” he snapped.

“Very well, very well. Take some advice though, Stark. The girl is keen on you, do get in contact soon or you may blow your chances,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)


	5. Chapter 5

Arya dived out of the small copse and chased the rabbit she’d spotted across the grass; she was enjoying the relative freedom from the unique smell of King’s Landing. Arya could understand why Sansa had come here so often. The park had a certain peace about it, --one completely at odds with the surrounding city.

The rabbit put on a spurt of speed and disappeared into the undergrowth. Arya growled in annoyance and turned away, sniffing the air.

Still nothing.

She and Jon had hired a dingy motel room close to Flea Bottom and had been using it as a base for her nightly runs. Yet after a full week of searching, no dog catchers had turned up to the park and Arya was beginning to think Sansa must have moved away to get herself captured.

It was then she picked up a slight scent: someone’s strong body spray. They were standing downwind, but Arya’s nose was the best in the family and the spray had a pervasive quality to it.

She went still and focused as her father had taught her.

She was being hunted.

Her eyes caught three shapes moving through the grass steadily. They probably hoped that staying at a distance from her would allow them a chance at capturing her.

A sliver of mischief ran through her mind and she danced away from them, using exaggerated movements--an invitation to come play from any other animal.

“Damn it,” the first figure cursed, attempting to move closer. He held a long pole with a metal wire loop at the top. No doubt it was to hold her still while his friends grabbed her. The group moved with practice; one man went to her right and the other going to her left.

She eyed them and then waited until the last minute to playfully dance back once more. She could sense their irritation.

“Bloody thing think’s this is a game,” grunted the man to her right, who was attempting to move closer. 

She watched him carefully, aware of the other man mirroring his actions on the left.

“Careful. Clayton, don’t spook her,” the man to her left murmured. 

The man too her right scowled back at him. “I’ve been with this team for longer than you, Gendry,”

Arya watched as the one called Gendry rolled his eyes. She leapt and danced away again. 

Clayton swore at her angrily. “Devan, can we just tranq the damn thing?” he called back.

Devan, the one who had brought the metal pole, shook his head.

“Not unless you fancy explaining to Dale why it was needed. You know he doesn’t like us tranqing them. Especially after you killed that one near the docks,” Devan’s voice held a hint of irritation that Arya sensed was directed at Clayton.

From her left Gendry lunged.

She danced away once more leaving the young man to hit the dirt with a thud. 

Clayton forgot his angry retort to Devan’s jab and collapsed into gales of laughter.

“Hahahaha, your face!” Devan howled, also forgetting his argument with Clayton. 

Gendry stood up and shook the dirt off of himself. “Shut up!” Gendry’s face had gone red in the moonlight, Arya noted with amusement.

“Stick to fixing cars, Gendry. Watch a real professional dog-catcher!” Clayton indicated Devan, who threw their pole over. He caught it and with one smooth motion brought it forward until it faced Arya.

Arya took up the challenge with relish. Every time he dived and swiped she danced under the wire or knocked it aside with her body. Gendry and Devan stood back and watched as Clayton chased her desperately, panting with exertion.

“Yeah, real professional,” Gendry observed dryly. 

Devan laughed and Clayton threw down the pole angrily. “This is waste of time. Al had three jobs for us tonight. We won’t get to the other one’s at this rate,” Clayton grumbled. 

Devan stopped laughing. “True. This is important, but I suppose the other two need doing as well. Especially since Al decided to bugger off and celebrate that commission,” Devan paused and eyed Arya speculatively.

“I could do a lot with a score like that,” said Clayton, dreamily. 

“Do you really have to pay a woman that much to sleep with you now, Clayton?” Gendry snickered. 

Clayton was about to respond, but Devan headed off the argument angrily. “Shut it you two and get ready to grab the thing. I’ll do the tranq shooting and then we can head out on the other two. Yeah?”

Gendry and Clayton moved back into position and Arya decided it was time to go. She turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could to the spot Jon had told her he’d be waiting in. Next to her a fired tranquiliser dart collided with a bush.

“Nice shooting, Devan,” she heard Clayton sneer. 

“Quit hanging around here being a smartass and get that dog!” bellowed Devan in response. 

Arya raced around the lake, slowly down periodically, to allow her chasers to at least keep her in sight. If her plan was going to work they needed to meet Jon. 

Finally she found her half-brother leaning against a tree by the park’s parking lot. She raced up to him and made a show of greeting him in a dog way. He got the message and fell into the role of worried owner.

Clayton, Gendry and Devan arrived soon after as Jon was uttering remarks like “How did you get out of the house?” and “Thank god, you’re safe, pooch.”

Arya bristled at the affectionate nickname and pet treatment, but swallowed her pride none-the-less.

“Oi, who the hell are you?” Clayton yelled as the three dog catchers grew closer. 

Jon stood up to greet him. “Depends who I’m talking to,” he replied, Arya heard the suspicion in his voice. Devan stepped up and offered his hand to Jon. Jon took it gingerly and shook it.

“I’m Devan Seaworth, part of Seaworth Dog Catching Services. We were pursuing this rogue dog which… ah… you appear to own,” Devan trailed off. 

Jon raised his eyebrows and Arya found herself impressed at his acting skills. “She’s not my dog. She’s my father’s. I’m Brandon Snow,” Jon left the detail vague, but not so vague as they wouldn’t get the subtext.

Jon was a bastard on the hunt for his father’s Wolfdog’s which meant the law could get involved very quickly if they weren’t careful.

“Ah, I see... ” Devan replied, 

Arya could see him glancing nervously towards Clayton. She wondered if he wanted him to step in or stay out of it. 

Jon pressed the point. “You’re dog catchers? Have you seen another dog like this? She more red than brown, though,”

The effect on Devan was instant. He looked even more nervous. Even Clayton seemed worried and Gendry was glancing between his two teammates, clearly unhappy.

“Can’t say that we have. How’d you know this one was here anyway?” Devan’s reply sounded on the surface to be carefree, but his quick subject change and shaky breath said otherwise. The Seaworths were lying about not having seen Sansa.

Arya only became aware she was growling when Jon tapped her lightly. She broke it off abruptly.

“I got an anonymous tip,” Jon said simply. 

Clayton was suspicious, but no one pressed the point.

“Well, Brandon, it’s been good meeting you and all. We really have to go now this one is dealt with. Lots of loose dogs about these days, haha,” It was Clayton who spoke this time. He took Devan’s shoulder in a firm grip. 

Devan seemed to come to his senses and nodded in agreement.

“I see. Good luck tonight gentlemen,” replied Jon, politely yet still allowing suspicion to enter his voice.

“You’re too kind,” said Devan before the three practically ran away from them. 

Jon made a noise of disgust the moment they were out of earshot. “A blind man could see those three were lying through their teeth. Arya, see if you can find out more.”

Arya moved away, keeping low and following them along the path that led into the car park itself as Jon made a show of walking off in the opposite direction, presumably with her in tow.

The three dog catchers had gathered by their van and Arya decided to hide in the bushes that were relatively close.

“...worst lying I’ve ever seen. And you gave him our company name!” Clayton was growling. He looked furious. 

“Shit, shit. Oh shit. We’re screwed if the bastard goes back to his father and tells him,” Devan muttered as he ran his hands over his face. 

Clayton threw his arms in the air dramatically.

“I’m glad you picked that up, genius,” he growled. 

Gendry leant against the van. “We already got rid of the dog. Even if his father gets involved they can’t prove we had her,” Gendry reassured them. He apparently thought well under pressure. 

Devan took his head out of his hands and spun round. “Of course. Matthos did the sale off the books because it wasn’t legal to sell her so soon which means even if the bastard’s daddy knows the little lordling that bought her, he isn’t gonna say shit because it’ll make him look bad,” Clayton reasoned, a nasty grin spreading across his face.

Devan laughed, suddenly relieved. “Okay… we can get round this. Straight back home, though. We need to warn Dale about this Brandon Snow,” Devan told them. 

They climbed into their van and drove off. 

Arya took note of the address on the side and then ran to find Jon.

Robb was waiting for them when they got back, staring at his phone. He jumped up as they entered. Arya frowned, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

“How’d it go?” Robb asked. Jon and Arya took off their coats before they settled down to explain to Robb how they’d met the Seaworth’s and what they’d learnt.

“He said ‘lordling?’ There aren’t a lot of lord’s around anymore,” Robb mused. His phone beeped and he scrambled to answer it. 

Arya shot a questioning look at Jon who shrugged.

“How was your trip to the hospital? We waited for you, but it took you forever,” Jon asked. 

“Yeah, we knew it wasn’t Sansa already. What took so long?” Arya added.

Robb began tapping at his phone before glancing over to them. 

Arya thought she could see him blushing. Jon apparently could too.

“You met someone? I haven’t seen you turn red like that since Jeyne Poole invited you to dance at Dad’s birthday party,” Jon chuckled. 

In response Robb blushed even harder. 

Arya felt herself laughing along with Jon. “So spill,” she said eagerly. 

Robb looked at them unhappily.

“Her name’s Talisa. She’s a nurse. I met her today. Anyway, as we thought, it wasn’t Sansa. Although I’m not sure we can dismiss this so easily. I had a good long chat with Talisa, she told me about some worrying things… I’m calling Dad down to King’s Landing.”

Jon and Arya frowned at one another. “Calling Dad in… what’s the need? We can find Sansa through the Seaworths by ourselves!” Arya objected. Jon said nothing.

“I’ll fill you in when I fill Dad in, it’s too much of a long story to explain twice. He needs to come down here to knock some sense into Robert at least,”

With that he flicked out his phone and they gathered around it, ready to check in with their parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) beta'd this chapter so be sure to check out her stuff!


	6. Chapter 6

Arya was dispatched with stern instructions to keep her mobile on hand and to call if there was an emergency. Jon and Robb were working on a plan to officially approach the dog catching service. She knew that somewhere nearby Jon was sitting in the motel room waiting for that call.

Her first idea had been to catch Gendry as he went to work, but so far, after an hour of waiting, there was no sign of him. Plan B was to simply was hang around the Seaworths shop in Flea Bottom trying to look inconspicuous.

She thought she was accomplishing this quite well. No one paid her a second glance as they hurried past. If Arya was honest she was almost enjoying herself, her fear for Sansa aside. It was almost like being a spy.

Her heart jumped as the door to the shop opened, but it was not Gendry. She sighed. This was taking too long. She got up and debated ringing Jon about her new plan. She dashed off a quick text and crossed the road.

The inside of the Seaworths’ shop was surprisingly well lit and spacious. Shelves full of dog toys and pet food dominated the main part of the shop floor. Arya also noticed a small alcove dedicated to fish and small rodents.

Her mouth almost watered and her stomach grumbled. Back at Winterfell she would chase creatures like these for food. She wandered over and investigated. A lot of the fish were foreign: brightly coloured breeds from Pentos and the blood red fighting fish from Asshai.

She moved along looking at the shelves. The store also boasted an array of rabbits, mice, and some reptiles. They scuttled away at her approach. Animals were always more perceptive than humans when it came to recognising their predators.

Someone dropped a hand roughly onto her shoulder and pulled her around. Behind her was a man who could only be a Seaworth. There was no denying his resemblance to Devan. Arya tried to glare at him, but he seemed unaffected.

“What are you doing kid? Nothing to steal here!” he said sharply. Arya all but snarled at him in turn.

“I ain’t here to steal! I’m looking for Gendry!”

The man paused in surprise before looking her over more carefully. Per her disguise she’d dressed as a boy, insisting on a haircut that her mother was going to faint at the sight off. Jon and Robb had found it funny almost.

“Really? You another of his father’s bastards? I don’t care. He only works here on certain days, he’s at Tobho Mott’s auto repair place. Now get out of here.”  
Arya scrambled out of the store not wanting to tempt the irate Seaworth into calling any of the Gold Cloaks. Not that Robb believed they’d enter Flea Bottom. After getting a good way from the shop she sat on the curb and pulled her phone out. It was a cheap one. Robb had handed it to her before she’d left. He called it a burner phone and he’d explained that the moment she was done with it she should give it him back so he could get rid of it.

She sent another quick text off to Jon before flagging down a passerby and asking about the auto shop. A few minutes later she was stood outside, squinting into the dingy interior. She smelt, rather than saw, Gendry underneath a car some ways up and she ventured in. He hadn’t spotted her yet.

“Oi!” she said loudly to get his attention. He jumped and scrambled from beneath the car, cursing. Arya stood back and looked him in the face.

“What…? Who are you? You shouldn’t be here.” He seemed more irritated than intimidated and Arya scowled at him.

“My brother says you guys took his dog. Wants to know where she is!” She hoped Gendry would put a squeaky voice down to her being a prepubescent boy and not nerves or being a girl. 

Gendry flushed red, looking guilty before glancing around and leaning forward. “Listen, that dog had no collar on! How were we supposed to know? Huh? It’s illegal to have a collarless dog.” 

Arya continued to glare and Gendry rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine. Look what’s your name? Maybe if you ask nicely we could look at the records, see who bought her.” He held up his hands with a long suffering expression on his face. 

Arya didn’t relax. “My name’s Arry. You know who she was sold too!” she accused. Gendry shook his head slightly.

“Okay fine. Arry… I’ll meet you in the cafe when I finish work tonight, about nine? Maybe bring Brandon along. I’ll tell you who bought your dog huh? You can’t say it was me that told you though. The sale wasn’t exactly… legal.”

Arya was about to harass him more when a shout echoed through the garage and Gendry’s face grew panicked. Arya took one last look at him and bolted for the exit as quickly as possible.

 

Jon and Robb put their plans on a backburner when Arya told them of Gendry’s offer. If the Seaworth’s broke the law to sell Sansa then they wouldn’t be keen to tell the supposed owner that they had. Jon donned some casual clothes and Arya continued to be Arry and they went for dinner.

“I don’t understand why she hasn’t just run away if she got sold?” grumbled Arya into desert, after they’d eaten their fill. Robb and Jon tensed, looking at each other darkly before Jon spoke.

“It’s possible she can’t. The people that bought her may have her locked up…” he began gently, but Arya cut him off.

“If anyone hurts her I’ll kill them,” she snarled, with more force than entirely necessary. She stabbed her lemon cake with a spoon and Jon sighed, reaching across the table to place his hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll get her back and if anyone’s hurt her there’ll be hell to pay for it, understood?” he said solemnly. 

“You promise?” she asked. 

This time both Jon and Robb nodded and she found herself believing them.

With dinner over, both Jon and Arya made their way into Flea Bottom proper once again, locating the cafe Gendry had pointed out rather quickly. Jon ordered them a coffee each and they sat down, watching for Gendry carefully. He arrived at five past, covered in a dirt and grime and looking harried.

Jon shook his hand firmly as they sat down. Gendry ordered some coffee and a sandwich and they sat back in the sudden awkward silence and waited. It wasn’t long before their food was dropped off. 

“So, who bought my dog?” asked Jon, cutting straight to the point. 

Gendry, who had just taken a large bite from his sandwich, held his hand up. He finished chewing. “Renly Baratheon. For his wife. Or so Maric said, they came to speak to Davos, he works with Stannis, and Lady Tyrell took to her. Maric offloaded her for a hundred and seventy five stags.”

Jon sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “And Renly left for Highgarden a week ago to help on the Tyrell side of this huge project they’re supposedly planning,” he growled. 

Gendry shot him a strange look. “Must be nice to be a bastard with highborn connections… I’m a bastard. Mum wouldn’t tell me who my father is, though. Paid for my apprenticeship with Tobho, but that’s the only thing he did. I only work with the Seaworths to help Mum with the rent,” he explained. 

Jon glanced at him and Arya thought he pitied Gendry. Whilst Jon was not treated like Robb, at least he got a lot of opportunities. Gendry clearly hadn’t. These days that was unusual as paternity tests could prove fatherhood and paternity suits were bound to attract media attention. 

In fact, thought Arya, there were only a few people who could get away with treating a bastard like that. She paused to examine the boy opposite her. He had dark hair and was well-built. Something about him was familiar and yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

“Not so high connections really,” he joked lightly.

Gendry didn’t smile, but put his sandwich down. “Listen, I’m not stupid. I did some looking on the internet before I came here. There is no Brandon Snow. You know who did pop up? Jon Snow, looks a lot like you actually.” His tone was accusing, but Jon remained silent. Gendry frowned.

“See then I started looking up who you could be… not Rickon…you’re too old. Probably Arya right? See, not stupid. What are you two doing looking for a stray if your sister is missing?” he asked. They glanced at each other, panicking.

“It’s her dog… we thought if we found it we might find her,” babbled Arya quickly. 

Jon nodded along and she could tell Gendry wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t challenge them and they left. Jon had left him a couple of Stags in thanks and he’d seemed happy enough. 

They made their trip back home in silence. 

“So Renly had her all along?” said Robb slowly

Jon nodded.

“So she’s in good hands then. Why hasn’t she escaped?” asked Arya, looking between Jon and Robb. 

Jon shrugged but Robb answered.

“Highgarden is about eight hundred miles away. She couldn’t cover that as a wolf, I guess she’s waiting for us instead,”

“But how are we going to get her? We can hardly just go waltzing up there and demanding her, then people will think we’re suspicious. I mean how would we even explain being up there in the first place?” asked Jon. 

Robb sighed and rubbed his forehead unhappily.

“Mum and Dad might know,” Arya piped up and Robb’s phone was pulled out and placed on speaker phone. They got through on the second ring.

“Have you found her?” came the desperate voice. Arya flinched at how upset her mother sounded. Robb also looked torn. She’d been on edge since the hospital hadn’t panned out. She knew that her mother had moved onto the morgues with a heavy heart

“Arya has turned up a solid lead… we just don’t know how to go about it,” explained Robb. There was a click on the other side and suddenly the sounds of the kitchen at home flooded in as Mum called Dad over.

“What is it?” he asked, over the scraping of a chair. 

Jon explained their meeting with Gendry and the predicament they were now in.

“Oh! But they’re having a party soon? In Highgarden itself, your father and I got an invite a few months ago. It’s to celebrate the start of the joint project,” gasped her mother. A chair scraped again and her hurried footsteps told them she’d left the room. 

Their father sighed and she could hear him rubbing his face.

“The Tyrell-Baratheon thing has been on the cards for some time. Nobody even knows what they’re planning. Robert’s been complaining for months how focused Renly is on it and how much money he’s put aside for it,”

“And now we have this Gendry boy to deal with too. He can’t have believed your excuse about the dog being Sansa’s. Most student accommodation doesn’t allow pets for a start.”

Arya felt a bit guilty. Gendry was smart which meant Dad had to figure out some way to make sure he remained silent about any strange Stark behaviour. Arya could only hope it was just money he wanted still she did have an idea.

“Why can’t we try to find his father? He said his mum knew which means she had a test, right? Otherwise the father wouldn’t pay?” she suggested. 

Robb shook his head.

“You said he only got his apprenticeship paid for. It means the father knows he’s the father, but there is no real proof to hold him to providing money for the mother and child. The apprenticeship was likely a one-off settlement. Not a good one either.” 

Arya sighed. Mum returned with the invitations. They were addressed to just her and Dad but Dad promised to get Robert to invite everyone.

“We need a plan for getting her back too. If we claim Sansa is our dog Lady Tyrell will almost certainly expect updates, perhaps even a visit if she has become too attached. If Sansa slips away though we could play it off as an escaped animal, slip her into our luggage and then drop her off somewhere?” suggested Robb, face thoughtful.

“It sounds good. I’m inclined to agree we should allow Margaery to know we have a link to Sansa otherwise when she goes missing Lady Tyrell will come to us first. Also even if we do identify Sansa as ours and try to take her back Lady Tyrell could easily take it to the law. After all we would have no documentation,” their father agreed.

“I’m not sure Lady Tyrell would. She’s always struck me as a lovely woman.” Arya’s mother’s voice was thoughtful. 

Her father snorted. “No, too risky. Most highborn girls seem nice until you try and take their toys off of them. I don’t want to risk more scrutiny than necessary,” 

“It’s agreed then? We’ll go with my plan?” Robb asked. Their parents gave their consent. Arya wasn’t so sure they shouldn’t just go up there now but she knew her father was right. they truly could not risk any undue scrutiny. Especially in this day and age where mobile phones and cameras existed.

The goodbyes were relieved this time. They knew where Sansa was, they knew how to get her home and it was all a matter of time.

They turned the phone off and sat there in silence. Until the party came around there was nothing else they could do except hope that Sansa was okay. The elephant in the room went unsaid… Would Sansa still be Sansa when they got too her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) for beta'ing my work!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) for the help with the story.

It scared Sansa how comfortable she’d gotten in her wolf form. Of all her siblings she’d always had the hardest time in transforming, but now she wore it well. Too well, she worried, remembering the fate that had befallen her father’s older brother, Brandon. After his disastrous attempt at locating their aunt after Rhaegar had taken her, he’d gone into hiding as the wolf. 

Father said he never came back.

Her escape plan had hit a stumbling block of sorts. Someone had made the mistake of offering a reward for any knowledge of her or her location on the news some days back. People would be extra vigilant now. Travelling back to King’s Landing now would mean assuming the wolf form the entire way and resting where she could. 

In a few weeks however, it was a different story. News moved fast in the seven kingdoms. It wouldn’t be long before news of her disappearance faded. She’d give it a week or so and when they moved onto another scandal, she’d be good to make her way back up to King’s Landing. 

As a way to keep herself busy, and more importantly, to keep the human part of her mind functioning, she decided to investigate Olenna and her mysterious phone call. She knew Olenna was plotting something with a contact in King’s Landing, someone who had eyes and ears everywhere. The question was what?

The next few days were quiet. Sansa had a morning routine: shower and then waking the two heavy sleepers up by jumping on them. 

Margaery bore it with good grace for the most part. Renly muttered about ill-behaved dogs, but still ruffled her fur anyway. 

Every time an opportunity presented itself, Sansa glued herself to Olenna’s side. Much to the matriarch’s distaste and Margaery’s endless amusement.

“She likes you, Grandmother, heavens knows why?” she laughed, about a week after Sansa had started her investigation. 

Olenna tutted in disgust and made another attempt to shoo her away from her feet. 

Sansa whined to reinforce the point. 

Olenna snorted derisively at her and turned her attention back to Margaery. “Go and find that husband of yours. I have business to attend to,” 

Margaery rolled her eyes and got up. 

Sansa stayed at Olenna feet, pretending to enjoy the sun. 

“Take this beast with you!” cried the old woman. Margaery laughed as she left.

“She seems to enjoy your company, Grandmother,” she chuckled and disappeared into the house. 

Olenna shook her head, clearly irritated. She removed a phone from her dress and Sansa recognised it as the one she used to call her mysterious contact.

“Hello? You said something had changed? The Starks? Here? But why they’ve never shown interest before? Robert got them all tickets to our gala… that man I swear… The high and mighty of the realm will be gathering here. I doubt it’s anything too serious. I know, I know… calm down. I’ve set the scene. I know my grandson. He and Renly will sneak off eventually they won’t be able to resist it… who are you sending? Her!? She doesn’t have a very good reputation… I know. Very well,”

The phone was turned off and hidden once more. Olenna remained still, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the sunlight. Then she sighed and lowered her hands to Sansa’s ears. 

Sansa leant forward, eager to encourage her.

“Why do I feel as if I am making a mistake with this?” Olenna asked nobody in particular. 

Sansa whined and the old lady snorted, finally opening her eyes to look at her.

“My son is a fool. My grandsons are fools. It should be Margaery taking the lead in this… but no, the world is not ready for such a thing I suppose. Oh they accept female business leaders. I made them accept me… true power though, that’s unreachable for women for now.”

Then she stood up swiftly, surprising given her advanced age.

“Come along, beast. We have a gala to arrange, people to impress.” She swept off and Sansa followed, ears pricked for any possible information. Olenna was planning something involving Renly and Loras. 

Sansa had become rather fond of the three in the week she’d spent here and part of her was very seriously debating as to trying to foil this plan Olenna had hatched with her mysterious contact.

Gala preparations were in full swing, even with three weeks still to go. Olenna spent the morning finalising details planned out by a seemingly endless supply of young women and men who all seemed to be related to the Tyrell’s in some manner. She bore no sign of her earlier misgivings, instead indulging in the role of a grandmother presiding over her family, giving out biting remarks and praise in equal measure.

“No, no, no! Enough roses. We have roses everywhere. We don’t need them on the tablecloths!” she cried. 

The unlucky cousin slunk off dejectedly, passing Margaery as she approached them with a bright smile. 

Sansa made a show of being happy to see her.

“Did you enjoy your morning with Grandmother!? Yes you did!” she fussed, running her hands over Sansa’s ears. Sansa felt part of herself die inside, but she still responded by wagging her tail happily. Good grief, give it another month and she’d be playing fetch.

“Did you enjoy your morning with Renly?” asked Olenna, waving away the last of the army of cousins. 

Margaery shot Olenna an irritated look. “Yes I did, The picnic you arranged was delightful.” There was a hard edge to her voice and Sansa had wondered what had happened. 

Olenna nodded, her eyes appraising Margaery shrewdly. 

She dreaded the day her human side would have to meet Olenna Tyrell. 

Olenna sighed suddenly, a bit of the hardness she bore leaving her.

“Margaery, why must you insist on doing these things? You know I had plans for you,” she asked sadly. Margaery raised an eyebrow.

“They were not my plans. I don’t want to be someone’s first lady, Grandmother. I want to be president someday,” she said, archly. 

Olenna looked at her, amused.

“I wanted that when I was your age. My father had different ideas. I was supposed to marry a Targaryen boy you know?”

Margaery said nothing so her grandmother continued, clearly sinking back into the past and her memories.

“Thoroughly untrustworthy, he was. Destined to be some minor minister. Father was thrilled. I was not. So on the day your grandfather was supposed to propose to my sister… well I got ‘lost’ on the way to my rooms.” Her voice held a small smile and Sansa listened intently. 

Margaery chuckled slightly. “So scandalous Grandmother,” she replied. 

Olenna smiled at her and for a moment there seemed to be a genuinely happy moment between the two. 

Margaery’s face grew serious again, though “I know you wanted me to marry Joffrey, but it’s never going to happen. Robert Baratheon has his eyes fixed on Ned Stark’s daughter and she’s welcome to him… you’ve heard the rumours, Grandmother,” 

Sansa focused even more on the conversation. It was true Robert made the suggestion to her father every year or so but her father had been stubborn so far. He would not commit her until she was old enough to make her own decision. She was thankful for that. Even though she hadn’t been thankful when she was younger. A teenager who longed for the south, for a prince of legend and resented the father and the monsters that kept her north. 

Then her mother had made her agree to get through university before making a decision, despite Robert’s protestations that eighteen was old enough to decide whether she wanted to get married.

Joffrey had been a fixture at her apartment for a while until Arya had stayed the night after seeing some band or other and the two had gotten into a blazing row. After he had left, several Gold Cloaks had turned up and hauled them both to the Red Keep. Joffrey had told his mother that Arya had attacked him. Sansa’s father had rung Robert up and smoothed everything over, but she knew her siblings had wanted Joffrey's blood.

After that, Sansa’s long nursed desire for him had cooled somewhat. She was no longer convinced he was what she wanted in life, especially when he sneered that she would not need a degree to be his wife. She was drawn back into the present by Olenna’s snort and a wave of the old woman’s arm.

“I have, unfortunately. Also the rumours about Sansa Stark. The girl wouldn’t stand a chance if she married him, not a deceptive bone in her body by the sounds of it,” Her tone was dismissive and Sansa fought to not respond. Part of her was offended but mostly she was amused by the irony of the matriarch’s statement

“She’s missing, though…,” said Margaery, quietly. 

Olenna nodded and the two became quiet again, seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

“Have you looked into that Grandmother?” asked Margaery suddenly. 

Olenna made a questioning noise and Margaery rolled her eyes.

“Sansa Stark? She went missing about a week ago and no sightings? Nothing?” she didn’t sound concerned, just curious. 

Olenna pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “It certainly is odd. No activity from her and no sightings, not even a whisper. Someone has gone to great lengths to ensure she is not found. It worries me that they are better than my spies.”

Sansa had not known the great families still employed spies. The notion was fairly romantic and commonplace back in the olden times, but nowadays it was a shady business and could earn you a huge fine. To spy on her? A private citizen? That would earn their company an eye-watering fine. Perhaps she was being naive again. Her father’s lawyer certainly always knew more than he should do about the affairs of others. He was also extremely unsettling company.

“What of your friend in the capital? Has Littlefinger heard anything?” she asked and Sansa reeled in shock. Petyr Baelish was an old friend of her mother’s and another unsettling character. He always stood a little too close, his gaze lingering just a little too long. She was aware he was in politics, but unaware he had links with the Tyrell’s. Olenna seemed somewhat discomfited by Margaery’s question and Sansa made the mental leap, Littlefinger must be Olenna’s mysterious contact. The one she called when she assumed no one could hear her.

If Margaery knew she was involved with Littlefinger it would not be a huge leap to assume her grandmother was partly responsible when Renly and Loras were exposed… Unless Olenna had a plan for that also.

The whole matter confused Sansa. Renly was not a bad marriage prospect, he was brother to the president and held a high position in his company. She did not think it was Renly’s involvement with Loras either that had Olenna so against the marriage. Olenna seemed the unshockable type.

Olenna had mentioned Joffrey. Margaery was supposed to marry him instead of Renly? What would that serve? A closer link to the government? Surely they already had that from Renly and the various Tyrell’s working in the government itself, including Garlan Tyrell who had a promising career in the Justice Department working with Ilyn Payne himself.

She mused over this for a while, missing the last of the conversation Margaery and Olenna were having about her.

“Speaking of the Stark’s. It’s worth noting Robert got them entry to our party,” Olenna drawled, pulling Sansa back into the present. Margery raised her eyebrow in surprise.

“You would think they’d have been searching for Sansa, hmmm?” she said, half asking and half stating. 

“Which makes me think they are up to something. The Starks rarely get involved in dodgy dealings. Eddard is especially ‘honourable,’” Olenna said the word “honourable” like it was an offense to her.

“There’s nothing wrong with being honourable, Grandmother,” replied Margaery. 

Olenna chuckled and waved her hand. “It is if you intend to play with the big boys,” her voice was derisive and Margaery snorted in response. “The heir and the bastard are in the capital right now. I’ve instructed our contacts there to monitor them, but nothing so far. The heir is milking the public limelight and taking a pretty nurse on dates and the bastard is stuck with babysitting duty with the sister that apparently snuck south with them,” Olenna explained. 

Margaery nodded, looking thoughtful. “You don’t think Robb Stark is planning on entering the government, do you?” she asked slowly, her eyes narrowed. 

Olenna hummed. “The North has always been autonomous, a law unto themselves, even in the days of the kings and Targaryen despots. Rickard Stark had southron ambitions; he just had them in the wrong time frame. He would have married his children to southerners, had all that tragedy not come to pass. Eddard seems content to keep things as they are, but it’s possible the boy could have his grandfather’s ambitions.”

Margaery nodded in agreement as Olenna leant forward, seemingly watching the gears in her mind turn. 

Sansa had to stop herself from physically snorting. Robb’s ambitions lay thoroughly in the North that she knew. In fact they were so thoroughly in the North her father and he frequently argued over potential secession. 

“It would give Sansa Stark’s disappearance a more sinister turn if…” Margaery’s thoughts were cut of as a young Tyrell cousin staggered breathlessly into the room, brandishing a tablet as if it were a shield against the inevitable biting remark from the elderly woman she had interrupted.

“You must see the news! Jon Arryn is dead!”

Jon Arryn had died of a suspected heart attack and his passing left a gaping hole in Robert’s government. He needed a new vice president and he needed one fast. No sooner than news had Jon’s death come in than news that Tywin Lannister, the father of the first lady, would be taking up the position.

Sansa had wondered at this. Tywin was famous, or more correctly, infamous for leaking a large amount of insider information that detailed a shocking amount of Aerys’ human rights abuse that had taken place whilst Tywin had been his VP. The revelation had been the final nail in Aerys’ coffin. One of his own Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister had arrested Aerys at the foot of the Iron Throne in response.

Olenna had waved Margaery and the luckless Tyrell cousin away, but Sansa had stayed once more, despite Margaery’s attempts to coax her from the room. She was curious as to what this meant for Olenna’s plan. The woman furiously tapped at her second phone. Eventually she put the call through.

“We need to move our plans up. I have a substitute for Margaery. I’ll make sure he meets her at the upcoming celebration.... With Arryn’s death we haven’t got time to use Margaery any more… I understand…. Renly was just a boy…. I know. I’ll contact Littlefinger and we’ll see what can be done. I’ll order him to start with his campaign now,”

The phone call ended and Olenna pursed her lips before dialing Littlefinger. It took two or three attempts to reach him.

“Busy in the capital?” she asked slyly. 

Sansa cursed her inability to hear the other voice on the line, she’d give her left arm to know what Littlefinger’s job is.

“You can assume correctly. I need them on edge,”

Ended just as swiftly as the last one Olenna quickly his the phone once more before reaching down to fuss Sansa once more.

“My, my, my,” she murmured, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She said nothing else, though, and Sansa slunk off. From what Olenna said her siblings were in the capital… 

She made her way to Margaery’s room, passing servants hurrying back and forth. Olenna’s party preparations were back in full swing again and most of them seemed to be intent on a deep clean of the entirety of Highgarden. 

Margaery was not in her room, but her phone was. Sansa eyed it warily. Many times over the last week, she had debated contacting her parents from it, but it seemed unwise. If there was one thing Sansa knew it was people could generally tell if you went messing around with their phones. She always knew when Arya had been in hers.

Perhaps she could find one elsewhere? A servant’s mobile perhaps? She left, deep in thought, as to how she could acquire one. Tonight would be another soiree, celebrating Garlan’s return to the capital. The Tyrell’s seemed to celebrate anything they could get away with. It would not be hard to get back inside the servants’ quarter’s once again. She knew from what she remembered of the map there was a staff area. Of course, she was betting on there being lockers there, not a guarantee. Worth a try however. 

She found Margaery by the lake with Loras and Renly watching the sunset. Sansa paused at the breathtaking view before pressing her cold nose into the back of Margaery’s knee. She had no clue where the mischievous nature was coming from lately. She seemed to be channeling her sister.

Margaery let out a slight shriek and then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, much to Renly and Loras’ amusement.

“Who’s a good dog?” laughed Loras, as his sister shot him a glare. She flopped down next to Margaery and the girl sighed. Renly followed suit.

“At least you’ve gotten married, Renly. Father is still harassing me to find a match. I’m hearing some horrifying suggestions,” said Loras, sounding slightly strained. 

Renly snorted and Margaery chuckled.

“Well it could be worse, brother,” laughed Margaery, ruffling his hair affectionately. He quickly smoothed it back down. 

Renly and Margaery laughed again at his vanity and the silence fell quickly again. Margaery broke it, glancing around before leaning in.

“Grandmother is up to something,” she murmured. 

Loras frowned and Renly looked unsure of what to make of this.

“Grandmother is always up to something,” said Loras, still frowning. 

Margaery snorted and made a noise of agreement. “This is serious, though. Secret phone calls, getting antsy when I mention King’s Landing contacts…” she said, pushing the point. 

If only she knew....

An idea presented itself and Sansa examined it critically. Perhaps she could communicate with Margaery? Margaery was much less… naive than Sansa was. Plus she had experience with her grandmother. Margaery would know how to go about investigating her grandmother’s plans. Perhaps she didn’t need to let her know about Olenna’s switch of focus. 

She mulled the plan over. It could be accomplished tonight with ease whilst everyone was at Garlan’s party. 

Later just as Margaery left the room, Sansa snuck out after her. Keeping out of sight was easy at first. She saw very few people and those she did see were preoccupied. The main part of the house and entrance to the servants’ area proved harder. The Tyrell’s were lingering in the foyer and were proving hard to navigate.

By the time she had gotten round them successfully, night had fallen properly and the shadows made for a much easier trip from then on. Unlike the previous dinner, it seemed there were still a few servants about. Many times she was nearly caught and to make matters worse, she couldn’t seem to find any location likely to yield employee phones.

She cut her search short as several giggling maids very nearly spotted her hiding in the shadows. Bolting back up to Margaery’s rooms she slid inside as the door swung shut behind her. She transformed, allowing the human part of her brain to assert itself to a greater degree. She needed to think and being human would help a lot more than being the wolf right now.

First things first, she located a small writing pad Margaery used for doodling and a pen to write with before thinking seriously about what to write.

“Your instincts about your grandmother are right. She plans to…”

She paused, pen hovering over the page. What did she plan to do? Expose Loras and Renly and break apart the marriage? What would that lead to? A marriage with Joffrey? She had no clue, perhaps it would be better to be vague. Irritably she tore the page away and started again.

“Your instincts about your grandmother are right. She has entered into an alliance with persons unknown in order to carry out a conspiracy. I must warn you in order to protect yourself for her schemes will harm you and your marriage.”

She paused and reread it. It sounded exactly like a note the hero would get in a crime novel, but she supposed it would have to do. She screwed up her failed draft and threw it into the bin, willing to bet Margaery wouldn’t notice.

Finally she bit the bullet, picking up Margaery phone and tapping in Robb’s number. With a deep breath, she hit call.

“Hello?” came his confused answer. Sansa was almost overwhelmed by the relief of hearing his voice again, even after a week.

“Robb,” she whispered. She imagined him bite back yelling her name, instead he made an excuse to whomever he was with. 

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice when she assumed he had reached a place safe to talk. 

She smiled happily, tears threatening. “Apart from the blow to my pride… I’m in...”

Robb cut her off. “Highgarden right?” he said.

Sansa arched her eyebrows. “How did you…?” 

But he cut her off again. “We did some investigating. We’re attending that big fancy ball they’re hosting in a few weeks’ time. We can smuggle you out then. Please stay there. One of Robert’s idiot hanger’s on decided to start offering rewards.” 

She felt herself nodding, despite the fact there was no one to nod to. “Yes, yes, I saw on the news… If this is the case, Robb I need a favour,” she asked, casting her mind back to Littlefinger’s involvement in the plan. “Littlefinger… Lord Baelish is involved in something shady with the Tyrell’s… could you investigate on your end?”

“Shady how? Sansa, we shouldn’t be getting involved with these people.”

“Please, Robb, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.” 

Something in her voice must have gotten through because he sighed unhappily. “Very well. I’ll sniff around, how do I contact you?” 

“Stay safe, Sansa,.”

The gears in her mind turned and she found herself glancing at the note again.

“Send an anonymous letter to Margaery Tyrell detailing what you think he’s up to. I’ll get to hear it,” she answered finally. 

On the other end of the line, Robb snorted with amusement and she felt her cheeks colour.

They said their goodbyes, Sansa giving him several messages for their parents and then Robb was gone. Now what should she do with the phone?

If she simply hid it Margaery would certainly notice. Perhaps if she managed to damage it in some way? She laid it down gently on desk before bringing her fist down on it. She wasn’t strong for a werewolf but compared to a human…

The phone came apart and she placed what was left of it about the bedside table. Next a lamp followed and the note placed artfully on top. Then, fearing someone heard the smash, she transformed. Prowling the room unhappily, she wondered if Robb would be able to suss out Littlefinger’s part of the plan.


	8. Chapter 8

Margaery came back alone about an hour later, flushed from wine. Renly was no doubt with Loras as usual. She cried out in frustration at seeing the wreck of her bedside table and the phone she used to obsessively update various social media accounts, but quickly noticed the note. It was an odd thing to see Margaery go from almost vapid socialite to her grandmother’s protege Sansa thought. Margaery’s face focused, became sly almost.

She picked it up and read the note, a slight frown forming on her face. Then she re-read it, frowning deepening. Her bottom lip was court between her teeth and Sansa found it endearing. Then Margaery sighed and sat on the bed heavily, note clutched in her hand.

“Well well well,” the young woman murmured, in a tone that was not dissimilar to the one her grandmother had used earlier that day. Sansa would have laughed if she could.

“I bet you wrecked my table trying to sniff this,” she said accusingly, waving the paper under Sansa’s nose. Sansa made an obligatory attempt to snuffle at it and Margaery pulled it away with a little giggle, reaching out to ruffle Sansa’s fur with her free hand.

“So, I have a very dramatic informant it seems,” she declared, falling back on the bed. Sansa fancied she could see the cogs turning in Margaery’s head. Sansa lay beside her, playing the role of obedient dog. Margaery smiled at her, her fingers brushing over Sansa’s muzzle gently. Sansa sneezed, drawing another golden laugh from the Tyrell girl.

Margaery turned her attention back to the note. “Me and my marriage? I wonder what they meant by that…? Protect myself? Why would I…? Ah! They can’t mean she intends to expose Loras and Renly!” Margaery flung herself to her feet, Sansa could hear the panic in her voice.

The agitated girl began pacing, furiously reading and rereading the note. Finally stood still for a few seconds, her eyes closed. Then she seemed to come to a decision.

“Come along Lady,” she commanded, sweeping from the room.

Sansa followed as Margaery practically ran to her brother’s rooms. Sansa hadn’t been here before but she had little time to gather her thoughts as Margaery tore the door open and stepped inside quickly. Sansa didn’t hesitate to follow, unwilling to miss even a moment of the drama.

Two twin cries of surprise met her ears and Renly and Loras desperately tried to cover themselves with the sheets. Sansa wondered if it was too late to go back and harass Olenna again. Margaery ignored all of this and brandished the note at them like it was a weapon. Loras took it, gingerly. 

Renly seemed to have gone purple. “Did you have to bring Lady too?” he asked with a whine. 

Margaery glared at him and gestured to the note. Loras finished reading, his face morphed into a confused expression. Renly took it and scanned it.

“What does it mean?” Loras asked, when Renly had finished reading. The dark-haired man passed the note back to Margaery.

“I can only take a guess from the overly dramatic wording but I would say Olenna plans to remove the problem of me being married to Renly with a messy public exposé,” 

The two men went pale. Sansa could well imagine them each picturing the fallout of that. Renly’s older brother, Stannis, had turned to religion in a big way and more than likely would disapprove of Renly’s preferences. 

Loras was less out of the limelight but the marriage prospects Olenna had been carefully cultivating over the past three years would disappear fast. The Tyrell’s would be diminished for it.

“Shit,” muttered Renly, clambering out of bed and treating Sansa to a view she’d spent a number of years wishing she could see but now wished more than ever she never had. She quickly began her default ‘awkward situation’ corner snuffling, hoping to ignore the image she would inevitably picture whenever she met Renly from now on. 

When she turned back, Renly had pulled on his clothes and Loras had pulled on his boxers and a tee-shirt. Both looked utterly miserable and she felt her heart break for them. They were truly in love, weren’t they?

“We’re going to have to stay away from each other aren’t we?” Loras said sadly. Margaery nodded, seemingly unhappy. Loras sighed and ran his hands through his hair, expression bleak. 

“I’ll find out what she’s up too brother, don’t worry,” she murmured. Renly smiled sadly and ruffled his hair affectionately. Loras leant into his touch briefly before seemingly steeling himself. Renly watched his face change and nodded, moving towards Margaery. 

“We better go then, put on the happy couple facade,” he said.

He swept out, not looking back. Margaery went to follow before turning back, her face torn between sympathy and grief.

“Stay here with Loras, Lady,” she said, running her hand over Sansa’s head quickly. Then she was gone, racing after Renly. 

Sansa turned to Loras, who had buried his face in the pillow on which Renly had so recently had his head. His shoulders shook, his body heaving with sobs. 

Sansa leapt up next to him, licking his shoulder and he jumped slightly. He looked at her and she felt her heart break. He smiled and wrapped one arm round her, using her to steady himself. Then he sniffled and seemed to regain some composure.

“Oh Lady,” he murmured, unhappily before flopping down into his bed. Sansa laid down gently next to him, nuzzling his arm. He sniffled again.

Sleep came hard. Perhaps she had been wrong to lie to Margaery? She wriggled around, trying to banish the sudden twists of guilt in her stomach.

She must have gotten to sleep eventually because in what seemed like no time at all she was blinking herself awake as Loras’ alarm blared into her ears. She whimpered at the harsh sound before leaping up.

Loras was also waking slowly. Outside the sun was barely up.

Loras’ morning was almost a ritual. He performed his exercises -how she had marveled at that display- and then gotten in the shower. 

Sansa spent the next fifteen minutes exploring his room, which was almost the same as Margaery’s in layout. Yet where Margaery’s filled with feminine products, candles and clothes and decorated to be cozy Loras seemed to prefer the minimalist style with the only items on display being some sports equipment leaning against the wall in the corner.

After he had dressed and styled his hair he had ushered her from the room and the two had taken a walk along the gardens, still drenched in morning dew. She had fun messing about in the flower beds until a gardener spotted her and chased her away. Loras intercepted the gardener as she fled.

“Damn dog of your sisters.” Muttered the gardener. Loras flashed him a smile and the gardener tensed up.

“Meant no disrespect, sir.” He said, and Sansa imagined him struggling not to bow.

“It’s no problem. Lady is still young, she shouldn’t have been in the flower bed,” replied Loras in a kind tone. Then they were off again with the estate waking up around them.

The next person they saw was Olenna Tyrell. Loras’ face transformed into an unhappy scowl. He didn’t even bother to hide it as he passed her. Sansa saw her eyebrows raise slightly and her lips purse in mild annoyance.

“What is bothering you this morning boy?” she asked, in her usual brisk tone. Loras clenched his jaw, struggling to think of a suitable reply beyond his anger. Finally he seemed to master himself.

“Margaery, Grandmother, she dumped her dog on me,” he said, tone weirdly neutral. Olenna raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. She seemed to decide to not press it however.

“I have a suggestion for you actually,” she announced, indicating the seating area that Sansa had first been introduced to the scheming matriarch. Loras tilted his head in confusion but followed his grandmother regardless.

Loras sat down in with a thud. From what Sansa had gathered Olenna’s suggestions were very much commands.

“Rumour has it that the Starks are all gathered in King’s Landing currently. In less than three weeks’ time they’ll be here to attend our small gathering. I’ll overlook you buggering your sister’s husband if you propose to the eldest Stark girl.”

If Sansa had been human she would have choked on the air and gone an interesting shade of purple. Instead the wolf let out a particularly odd snuffle as Loras’ face drained of colour. 

Olenna looked smug. 

“Sansa has been practically engaged to that prick since she was fourteen. She’ll never go for me over him,” he breathed. 

Sansa could tell he was thinking over the possibilities, though. Like his siblings Loras had been raised on schemes and plots, even if his sports’ career might indicate otherwise.

“The girl had three posters of you in her room. Three. One was signed,” replied Olenna, eyebrows raised and Loras’ flushed. 

Sansa recalled the posters with embarrassment; the signed one had been a gift from a friend as a going away to university present. 

“It still doesn’t change the fact Sansa and Joffrey are tipped to be married by they’re both twenty-three,” he all but growled.

“And how long will that last? A year until he harms her in some way nobody can ignore? You’ve heard the rumours, Loras, he’d kill her eventually.”

Loras’ face twisted again and Sansa could tell that he didn’t truly care about her fate, but about how he and Renly could potentially see each other again if he managed it. She could tell Olenna could as well. “You wanted to throw Margaery to that monster once,” he accused. 

Olenna pursed her lips, irritated by her grandson showing fight, even when he’d convinced himself. “She could have handled it. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” Her eyes were sharp.

Loras snorted then shrugged. “If she turns up at this party I’ll do my best. She’s still missing remember.”

Olenna nodded, taking this as the best answer she was likely to get. 

Loras waited in silence until her attention was taken up by a servant before slipping away. Their morning walk appeared to be over as he led Sansa back to his room. He was deep in thought and she wondered if he was thinking of her, but quickly dismissed the idea. She knew he was thinking of Renly.

Once they reached his room he pulled out a slim notebook and flipped it open, booting it up as he dropped down onto his bed. His eyes were intent on the screen and Sansa leapt up beside him, wondering what he was up to.

He was googling her. 

Sansa resisted the urge to squirm.

She was glad her father had gone to great lengths to ensure the media didn’t look at them too hard. Not that they made an exciting family, although should the world learn of their secret it would definitely change. 

No, The Stark Holdings group was an unfocused, almost unimportant northern company. Their holdings were huge and they employed more people through their subject companies than anyone else. With no area of expertise they fought with no other big family for dominance. It had ensured they had as few enemies as possible to potentially discover their secret.

Only a truly dedicated enemy will go to any lengths to discover any secret available. For any neutral party it would hardly be worth it.

The protective measures her family had adopted went much further however, when she had reached a certain age she had demanded to be allowed her own social media accounts. Her father had forbidden it. At the time Sansa had been furious, believing her father to be overly paranoid about the whole affair. Now, having looked into the murky depths of corporate espionage and politics, she saw the wisdom of it. This meant that all in all, there were few news stories on her as the celebrity-driven culture of Westeros had passed the Starks by to a great degree. 

Loras tutted in frustration and slammed his notebook shut.

She took the moment of silence to wonder what it would be like, being married to Loras would be like. She found herself imagining children, entertaining the upper echelons of westeros.... and Renly visiting every night… along with Margaery? Her perfect world terminated and she let out a huff of breath.

“Me too, Lady, me too,” murmured Loras, bringing his hands up to her head.

The rest of the day was quiet. Loras was restless and they tramped over every inch of Highgarden. Sansa’s paws felt ready to fall off. Loras was in a terrible mood, made worse by glimpses of the happy couple mingling with servants and family members and the odd business associate that the Tyrell’s always seemed to host.

Sansa felt herself quiver in excitement every time her nose picked up Margaery’ scent. She found herself marveling at it. Just two weeks and she was reduced to nothing more than a house pet desperate for her owner to return. Loras patted her back in sympathy, knowing she was missing Margaery. She _was_ missing Margaery, but it was beside the point. She was half tempted to bite him to prove she was still the wild northern direwolf.

“You really love her don’t you, Lady? Who’d have figured a big dog like you for a huge softy?” He laughed, eyes still in pain. 

She did her best wolf glower at him, but he remained unfazed.

She was in a dark mood by the time Loras left to find food, leaving her alone in his room. She hadn’t showered and she had no clue when he might come back so doing so was a no go. It was frustrating, the little things that had reminded her of her humanity were gone and her routine was completely thrown off. 

The more she thought on it the more desolate she became, her thinking following the same patterns it had when she’d been younger and unhappy at her condition. She’d used to imagine that her father’s “curse” had skipped her and that she was more Tully. That she truly belonged in the south and not north, where everything was grey and she was a monster.

Being in the south had reminded her of all the good the North held and she knew she would trade Highgarden for her Winterfell in an instant now, teasing of her siblings for this slip up included.

She fell asleep before Loras returned. She hadn’t intended to, but she was used to waking up later and the day she had spent walking and playing had exhausted her thoroughly. That night she dreamed of Winterfell.

There was an old tower there. All around it were wild thorns and flowers, but she brushed past them with ease. Behind her Margaery was picking her way through the undergrowth, matching Sansa’s path. Her body quivered with anticipation and she nearly tripped on an upturned stone she hadn’t noticed in the undergrowth. Not even the embarrassment could dull her excitement and Sansa went on heedless of the giggles of her companion.

Finally she stood on the threshold, staring up past rotten wooden beams and into the sky. Dark clouds began to form above them and she sighed, vaguely aware a plan for a picnic had just been ruined by the storms inopportune arrival. 

Margaery sighed also, reaching her side and following her line of sight. 

“I’m sorry… I really wanted.” 

A soft hand on her cheek cut her apology off and Sansa was forced to look into the deep brown eyes of Margaery Tyrell. Margaery curled her hand and drew a single finger on her lips and a teasing smile twisted about her face. “No apologies,” she said, stepping past her into the tower. 

Sansa peered up at the sky once more and cursed it before following her friend. 

Margaery had ducked into a corner that offered a small amount of cover. 

Sansa wrinkled her nose but followed, moving down beside her and determinedly ignoring the dirt and dew that immediately coated her jeans. 

Margaery’s clothes were likewise covered, but she didn’t seem to care. She was enraptured with the whole situation. “I knew the North was beautiful…,” she started, then stopped. 

Sansa cut in quickly. “Not as beautiful as Highgarden,” she assured the young woman. 

Margaery smirked at her again, a fond glint appearing in her eye. “It’s kind of you too say so. The North is beautiful in a different way, Highgarden is tame, well maintained and orderly. This is wild and free,” she paused, her brown eyes darkening slightly. “Like you…,” she added. 

Sansa felt herself blush, stammering something meaningless in thanks. 

Margaery smiled. When it became apparent Sansa wouldn’t reply, she frowned and returned to looking into the sky. “You must show me more of the North,” she said.

Sansa peered at her through her hair but said nothing. 

“You must show me the famous winter roses that you grow here as well. Grandmother has been pestering me to find out how to grow them… perhaps even make off with one in a daring heist. You know how she can be,” Margaery’s eyes went distant.

Sansa felt a stab of pity, reaching forward to touch Margaery’s arm.

“I do. I honestly do,” she told her, with feeling. 

Margaery’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t look away. 

It surprised Sansa. Margaery seemed to be unshakeable even in the times of stress.

Then the heavens opened and the rain poured down, soaking everything in a matter of seconds. 

Sansa discovered the position she had claimed was also where water pooled and she leapt up in horror. 

Margaery’s laugh stopped her irritation short and she found herself scooching into the only remaining dry bit.

Margaery moved aside for her but there wasn’t a lot of space and the Tyrell was practically sitting on Sansa’s knee after they rearranged themselves.

Sansa was startled when she saw her breath—that meant the temperature was dropping. Why then was she so warm?

Margaery twisted around to look at her and Sansa was suddenly unsure. Very unsure. Why were they here again?

“The weather changes so fast here,” stated Margaery. Margaery was good at breaking awkward silences, Sansa had noticed. 

In the distance thunder rolled, and Sansa closed her eyes, remembering storms from her childhood. “Yes, it can do. Winter is coming… haha.” her voice sounded shaky, much to her own surprise. 

Thunder rolled again, causing Margaery to jump slightly. Sansa caught the brief look of fear cross her companion’s face. This time Sansa found herself laughing. 

The tension eased slightly and Margaery mock scowled at her, feigning irritation.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… your face. I’ve never seen you so afraid,” Sansa laughed. 

Margaery delivered a light slap to Sansa’s elbow. 

But once Sansa had started she couldn’t stop. _It must be nerves,_ she thought to herself. _But what am I nervous about? ___

Margaery’s lips pursed in true annoyance. 

Sansa found herself desperately trying to control herself. “I’m sorry…,” she giggled. 

Margaery’s face softened and another silence stretched between them. Margaery twisted her body around, facing Sansa and raising her hand to her cheek once more. 

The last of Sansa’s laughter cut off abruptly and she sat frozen in place by Margaery’s touch.

“I am afraid, though—a lot of the time,” she said quietly. 

Sansa swallowed, finding it difficult. She was warm again, blushing hard, and she felt like she was about to come out of her skin—like the full moon was rising and she was just waiting for it to appear above her… She couldn’t find the words, but raised her hand to Margaery’s, suddenly needing to touch her in some way. Another crash of thunder and the tower lit up with lightning, but both of them ignored it. 

Margaery let out a shaky breath and began to lean in… closer and closer and… 

Sansa snapped up, her skin on fire and burning with a desire she didn’t understand. She ran her hands over her body, finding the collar. She clutched it and wanted to cry, surely a week or two of playing pet wasn’t responsible for this. 

She’d transformed in her sleep. This was not good. Sansa fought with the buckle and finally pulled it free before looking around. 

Loras was in his bed, gone to the world. 

Outside the sky was black. She closed her eyes and took shaky breaths, trying to calm her breathing before transforming. She couldn’t risk Loras catching her. Although it would put his grandmother’s plan to have him marry her on hold. 

She padded about the room, wishing she could leave and run-- run until the Tyrell’s and Highgarden was just a memory and she was with her siblings and within the walls of Winterfell once again. 

She didn’t sleep again that night and the collar lay abandoned in the corner of the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, huge thanks to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) for her help with the story.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) beta'd the chapter for me so a huge thank you.

The back of the prison transfer van stank. Jon stared at the handcuffs encircling his wrists, it was an unpleasant task he’d been given. Benjen had made it clear it needed to be done and Benjen only had Jon to trust until backup arrived in the city.

Unbidden the memory of Benjen’s arrival came to his head.The true reason for their visit was very different.

Robb had told their father everything he’d seen in the capital. Jon had been incensed to learn a Black Brother was involved. His father had been similarly minded. The state of the hospitals and Lannister influence had alarmed his father, he knew this. Eddard had announced he would be coming down. Lady Catelyn had refused to stay behind and they both made arrangements for Rickon and Bran before booking train tickets.

They’d arrived mid-morning and Jon’s heart had leapt to see a figure clothed in black next to his father. Benjen looked older but he was still instantly recognisable. Jon could still remember the whirl of emotions; anger and happiness. Benjen understood how he felt. Jon didn’t understand why he was purposely blocking his applications to the Night’s Watch. Even Eddard was in favour of him joining.

Robb had stepped in to explain the problems they faced and how the land lay. He detailed Jon Arryn’s funeral plans.

Arya, and Robb, and he had gone to the train station to meet their father and Lady Catelyn as they arrived in King’s Landing. Officially they were here to co-ordinate the search for Sansa. 

“Another thing.” Robb added, stepping forward and lowering his voice. Jon listened to his half brother intently. “Mother, you need to speak to Aunt Lysa. Rumours are running wild and she’s packed up and run to the Vale. She claims Jon Arryn was murdered and she’s refusing anyone access to Robert.”

Their father was troubled and Lady Catelyn aghast. 

“I don’t understand. Lysa always been prone to fantasy, but Jon Arryn was an old man; he’d been ill… this isn’t a few hundred years ago Ned. We need to do something.,” Her voice was low, but distressed.

“We’ll deal with it… and Robert and his wildling problem,” their father murmured. 

The conversation had been derailed soon after when Lady Catelyn had spotted Arya’s new haircut. Robb found it hilarious. Lady Catelyn did not.

As Catelyn berated Robb for allowing it, Jon hung back. 

Benjen noticed and as they left the station he fell into step beside him. 

“You’re worried about Mance Rayder?” It was more a statement than a question. His uncle knew him well despite spending most of the year as Jeor Mormont’s second-in-command. 

“I want to do something. To help.” he whispered back. 

Benjen nodded thoughtfully. 

“I’ve been putting this off but there may be a way you can. If you succeed I’ll have you put on a fast track to officer rank. How does that sound?” Benjen asked. 

Jon stared at him. 

“Just tell me what you need done. 

Benjen shook his head.

“Not here, too many prying ears and eyes. When we get back to the house your father rented out, I’ll fill you in.”

Jon was dragged rudely back into the present as he and the seven other prisoners were hauled from the van and lined up. He gritted his teeth as he was roughly shoved by a Gold Cloak. Nearby there was a scuffle as a larger man, referred to as Tormund, was hauled out. He didn’t look particularly happy with his treatment.

Jon allowed himself to glance at the woman he’d been sent here to tail. She seemed unconcerned by the whole thing, a small smile playing about her face. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, though.

Janos Slynt put on a slow swagger. Jon had disliked the man from when he’d first met him. The man’s expression was nasty and Jon found himself comparing it to the smile that had been fixed maniacally on his face when Eddard Stark had shaken him down in his own offices.

Benjen needed whatever information he could get on the Wildlings before he okayed the plan he’d been secretly working on. Together with Eddard and Jon, who was disguised as a dog, they’d made their way to the training yards.

Jon hated being disguised as pet but he swallowed his pride for this. They’d found the Gold Cloak Commander enjoying the sun and occasionally shouting insults at the new recruits. He scrambled to his feet when Benjen and Eddard approached.

“My lords! How may I help you?” Slynt exclaimed. 

Jon could smell a small portion of panic about him. It grew upon realising Benjen was a Black Brother.

“It seems you have a Wildling problem.,” His father’s voice was nonchalant. 

The effect on Slynt was profound. He was on the verge of all out panic within seconds.

“Well, I wouldn’t say problem,” the Commander started. 

“Yet the report published by the Justice department just days ago labels Flea Bottom as a no-go area for officers of our fine Gold Cloaks,” observed Benjen.

Jon wrinkled his nose in distaste as Slynt began to sweat slightly. Jon could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring for an answer.

“Well, it’s a bit exaggerated,” Slynt replied weakly. 

Benjen nodded as if in agreement. 

“And I’m sure you’ll deliver Mance Rayder and the ten men he helped escape from Castle Black back in our hands shortly!” Benjen beamed. 

Slynt nearly choked on the air. 

It struck Jon that the commander was a very stupid man and a very bad liar.

“Well, thats just a legend really. There really is no Mance Rayder.”

“Castle Black records and the three Gold Cloaks he put in your morgue say differently,” growled Jon’s father. 

Janos swallowed hard. 

“We don’t know that it was him. Those officers… they were corrupt. Dirty cops. The Wildlings claim this Mance Rayder killed him, but really...” He shrugged. 

Jon could smell the lie on him clearly. Whatever those cops had been, they weren’t dirty.

His father and uncle stared at the commander. The man was pouring with sweat and clearly completely panicking. Such a reaction was unwarranted for a man who was simply incompetent. This stank of something far more.

“Well, Brother, we must be on our way!” Benjen said suddenly, placing his hand on Eddard’s arm. 

His father had nodded slowly and they’d left, leaving Slynt more than a little worried about their potential interference.

The man in front of him now held none of that fear. Jon could see from his smile Slynt took a sadistic pleasure in having people under his control -even if the pleasure was blunted by the presence of the First Ranger.

The title was an archaic hangover from when the wall had served as a barrier to Wildings and other, darker creatures. Yet Qhorin Halfhand bore it well. He’d inherited it from Jon’s uncle after Benjen had been promoted. The man was a terror to the convicts.

“Listen here, scum! My friend here has some questions for you regarding Mance Rayder. So you’ll all be making a trip up to Castle Black!” Slynt’s voice carried easily. Jon fancied there were people on Aegon’s hill that must have heard it.

Two Black Brother’s loaded them into another van and ensured they were all shackled down correctly. One remained in the back and the other went up front the Halfhand. Jon found himself seated opposite the giant of a man, Tormund. 

“Who did you piss off to end up here? You ain’t no wildling.” His voice was low and it appeared the Black Brother hadn’t noticed. Jon was aware of the entire van suddenly listening for a response.

“I got mouthy with one of the lordlings up at the castle. Thinks he’s better than me. He accused me of being a wildling and the guards don’t have eyes in their heads to tell the difference.”

If pressed, he’d give Robb’s name. Robb had made a point of appearing on TV with a sudden black eye a few days ago. Anyone that had seen that broadcast would know something had happened.

Tormund looked unhappy, but his glance the left, at the red haired woman, told Jon all he needed to know about who was in charge. He made a point of following Tormund’s line of sight, meeting the woman’s eyes for the first time.

She studied him. “You smack the Stark brat?” she asked suddenly. 

“Yeah.” he replied, aware he was on shaky ground. Around him a few of the captured wildlings shifted. 

“Nice.” she said, nodding. Jon felt himself blush and she grinned. “We never turn away people who like to deck the high and mighty lordlings. You know Flea Bottom?” she asked.

“Yeah… why?” Jon knew that in about five minutes or so Qhorin was going to let them all escape but he hadn’t realised they had their own plan. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. Jon glanced around as if bewildered. 

“Brandon,” he replied.

“Good. Nice northern name. Listen here, Brandon, I don’t fancy a trip to Castle Black and neither does anyone else here. You with us?” Her eyes were piercing. Jon nodded forcefully. She smiled in response. She really was pretty when she smiled, he noticed. 

“Tormund,” the name was given like a command. The giant man grinned and motioned towards Jon, as if to say, watch this.

Then Tormund stood up - something Jon thought impossible as the Black Brother had chained them all down securely. Said Black Brother clambered to his feet, groping for his taser, but Tormund was deceptively fast for such a big man. His fist blurred and the Brother collapsed against the van door with a sickening crack.

In the front, Jon heard a shout, but it seemed the Wildlings were prepared. Even as Halfhand hit the brakes the red haired woman was opening his cuffs. Tormund dragged him up. “When they open the doors we have to take them out, understood?”

Jon nodded, playing it as if he was too terrified to speak. The sounds of footsteps and tarmac and Night’s Watch command codes being shouted drew his attention. The back would be opened soon. Jon’s heart pounded.

When the door swung open, Jon plunged forward and swung his boot into the closest Brother’s face. He felt instantly guilty as he caught sight of Qhorin’s surprised face a second before his foot connected and the man crumpled to the ground with what was almost certainly a broken nose.

Tormund and the other’s didn’t give him time to rest, though. They bundled him away through so many backstreets he lost count. 

Eventually they ended up in a deserted cellar and Jon became aware of being surrounded by hostile people again.

“Nice kick, Brandon! Did you see the look on that guys face?” the red-haired woman shouted, her eyes were shining with exultation.

“It certainly felt good.” he replied, grinning at her. 

She thumped him on the back hard. “Name’sYgritte. You seem like a dependable guy, Brandon! Come by the Night Queen pub in Flea Bottom if you fancy a job with us Wildlings.”

They left in twos, hoping to avoid attention from any Gold Cloaks who might be aware of the escape. He hoped Benjen would be happy with what had happened here.

It had been Benjen’s idea.

The two Stark brothers had gathered with Jon in Eddard’s study. His father looked unhappy and Benjen was serious.

“I don’t trust Slynt one bit. If we do this he can’t know,” his father had said. 

Benjen nodded thoughtfully. 

“Certainly not. Qhorin will arrive soon but until then we have to make do. Jon, how fast can you grow a beard?”

Jon had been taken by surprise. Werewolves grew hair fast and he usually had to shave everyday. It would take a week to get a good growth, maybe less. 

“Grow one. We need you to reprise your role as Brandon Snow. This time as a Wildling,” Jon straightened in his chair and tried to look attentive even as he rejected it outright. He wanted to wear his uniform proudly, not skulk around with a beard and shady company. 

Benjen seemed to read his thoughts. “I wouldn’t ask normally, but the Gold Cloaks can’t be trusted. We need information and an inside source would be best placed. As I’ve said, succeed in this and you could make officer within a year as opposed to five.”

It was tempting. He’d wanted to be an officer in the Night’s Watch since as long as he’d been old enough to understand what it was. He remained silent, thinking hard.

In the next room, Arya recounted a phone call she’d listened into that day. Arya wouldn’t understand his decision to leave.

“... have your tickets. Make sure you get pictures of the Loras and Renly. I want solid proof. Renly needs to be out of the race before it begins, do you hear me?”

Jon knew by smell that Catelyn was with her, scribbling down what she was saying.

Soon they’d be sending it to Margaery Tyrell and Sansa. If he went undercover he wouldn’t see Sansa when they got her back either. His relationship with Sansa was complicated. Would she even want to see him after such a harrowing event?

Jon sighed heavily. “Okay, I’ll do it,”

As he arrived at his motel room, Jon was drawn back to the present by arriving at his motel room Jon sighed. It had taken some persuading and he still wasn’t happy. He scratched his new beard irritably. 

Ygritte had been their only lead and even that had come from Robb - or more accurately, Robb’s new girlfriend. Ygritte had been the patient originally mistaken for Sansa and during a date Talisa had brought it up after one too many drinks.

She’d had to report Ygritte’s Wildling connection to Slynt by law, and upon waking up Ygritte had been hauled out of the hospital. It had taken fast work to get Jon put in the same transfer as her without Slynt suspecting anything.

The Night Queen. Sounded like a northern pub. Jon made his mind up. It wouldn’t do to seem to eager. He’d leave it a day or two and then go down. Pretend to be down on his luck. He glanced around his room and sighed again.

Staying in this room he already felt down on his luck. He knew for a fact it had rats and his mind shuddered at the thought of what other pests it could have.


	10. Chapter 10

Everything was hazy. She couldn’t remember yesterday. Even keeping her mind human today was proving trying. There had been no more dreams of Margaery, but instead of welcoming this Sansa hated it.

She dreamed of open fields and chasing rabbits. Animal dreams, not hers. She had grown melancholy in her human mind and more animalistic in her wolf side.

Loras had noted the change too. He was worried about Lady’s behaviour. She knew he’d suggested a trainer to Margaery, but Margaery had been resistant.

Sansa curled up in the corner of Loras’ room and tried to think like a human. It was hard. She hadn’t transformed in three days and even when she had, her time as a human had been short. Most of it was spent trying to relearn how to walk.

She hadn’t tried, but she knew now her voice would be scratchy with disuse and her words would slur. She wanted to become human, to scream what she was and get the nightmare over with. She didn’t want to become a wolf.

Oh, but it was so hard…

Nearby Loras was lounging on his bed, messing about with his notebook. Every so often he’d peer over the top of the lid and check on her. She ignored him and continued staring at the ground.

She couldn’t slip today. She’d slipped yesterday. She couldn’t remember the afternoon…

The door swung open and Margaery stepped inside, her face lined with worry.

Loras flicked his notebook closed and made room on his bed.

“How is she?” asked Margaery, her voice gentle.

Loras nodded at Sansa. “See for yourself. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Sansa knew Loras had come to like his sister's pet. She’d kept him company in the days after he split from Renly, kept him from staring too long at pictures and nuzzled him when he’d cried.

“I got a letter today.” Margaery’s voice was carefully neutral.

Sansa focused on the subject of the letter. Wasn’t there something important there? A letter…. Robb? Robb was supposed to send a letter?

Loras raised his eyebrows. “I got seven. I guess I win.”

“Haha, I meant I got as letter from our notewriter,” his sister replied icily.

Loras jumped from the bed, his face pale suddenly.

Margaery pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over.

Loras took it.

Sansa’s mind began assembling a puzzle. Letter, Robb, a note. The memory hit her like a tidal wave and she felt like she’d gotten an anchor to her human self. She’d written the note, this letter was important. She had to see it. She moved to her feet and trotted over. It was a testament to the siblings’ worry that they paused to fuss her before returning to the letter. She leapt up onto the bed and positioned herself next to Loras.

“Anyone would think she wanted to read it herself,” chuckled Loras before unfolding the paper.

Sansa focused on the page. Robb had sent this but the handwriting was her mother’s. She was sure of it.

 _Littlefinger phoned an associate named “Ros”. He detailed a plan to expose the relationship between Renly and Loras at the upcoming ball the Tyrells will be hosting although she plans to arrive early to build her case. I have enclosed a full transcript of his call below._  
_Be safe._

Sansa was alarmed, but again she couldn’t remember why. Olenna. Olenna set Littlefinger on them. She had asked Robb to investigate Littlefinger. Something else was evading her. She strained for it.

Yes. Olenna didn’t want this to happen anymore, but Littlefinger wanted to expose them. Why would he want that? Olenna was bankrolling him evidently?

Unhampered by foggy thoughts, Margaery had reached the same conclusion. She sat down on the bed next to Sansa.

Sansa was painfully aware of every part of her: her scent, her weight on the bed and the heat of her body. It was intoxicating.

She pulled her mind away from that. It was animal lust --not human lust.

That dream had been human lust, whispered a traitorous part of her brain. She silenced it.

Margaery and Loras, who were completely unaware of Sansa’s turmoil, continued on.

“It says in this transcript Grandmother has withdrawn her support,” said Loras, tapping the paper at the offending line.

“I hope it’s true. I’m angry she even sanctioned this to begin with… still Littlefinger hasn’t stopped which means Grandmother has lost control of him,” Margaery reasoned.

“Not surprising. We’ve known for sometime we aren’t the only ones bankrolling Petyr Baelish,” Loras murmured, rereading a section of the paper.

“The question being who else is funding this and why? Even if it is someone funding this. I’m not convinced… look at this line. ‘I need Renly out of the way’. Littlefinger, not a client.” Margaery took the paper from Loras with a sigh.

“This doesn’t make sense. I knew Grandmother had ambitions, but this doesn’t make sense. Why is she so intent on me marrying Joffrey? He’s got no more power coming to him than my little toe. I have made the much better match with Renly. He’s got a powerful role in both government and Baratheon holdings.” Margaery sounded frustrated.

“Unless she’s hoping that some sort of arrangement like hers and our grandfather’s happen with you ruling the Baratheons from the shadows and Joffrey taking the credit.” Loras’ was clearly just as puzzled as Margaery.

“She knows Joffrey. He’s deeply misogynistic. What does he have that Grandmother wants? I just can’t see it!” Margaery threw her arms into the air dramatically.

Loras smiled at her antics.

Margaery nodded to herself as if she’d finally come to an agreement. “Okay, I’ve decided. Enough snooping, we’re confronting her,” she said, turning to leave the room.

Loras jumped up and followed her. “Margaery, think about this!” he urged.

Sansa ran to catch up, desperate to see what the Tyrells were up too. She was sure Margaery would wrest the truth from her Grandmother one way or another.

Olenna was seated in her small office. It was where she went if she wanted to be alone and woe-betide any unfortunate cousin to interrupt her solitude.

The Queen of Thorns seemed surprised to find two of her grandchildren so brazenly marching in with matching expressions of determination.

Sansa slipped in and curled up in the corner of the room where she could see everyone’s face.

“Well, well, I hope you two have a good explanation for this,” said the elderly woman icily as she placed her pen down.

Margaery said nothing but handed the paper over silently.

Olenna took it with amusement. Her smile soon faded when she read the contents. “That traitorous little worm!” she hissed.

Sansa began to worry for Littlefinger’s future safety. Olenna looked ready to skin him alive.

“Very well. It seems I owe you two an explanation. Sit down and shut the door.” Even caught out, Olenna maintained her commanding presence.

Loras shut the door whilst Margaery sat down on one of the plastic seats by the wall. Loras joined her soon after and Olenna was silent for a while.

Sansa forced herself to be as human as possible. This was important. She could tell.

“I suppose I have no need to explain the events of Robert’s Rebellion too you? Such a fantastical name for a petty mudslinging match between powerful families really. Robert was no better that Aerys in that regard. He made enemies in that campaign,” Olenna began.

Margaery raised her hand. “Explain it properly, Grandmother. Don’t assume we know what you do,”

Olenna laughed. “Giving orders… you take after me. Very well. Aerys was a despot. A terrifying one. Most of his detractors ended up dead… or worse. They were the bad old days. People went missing without a trace. No bodies… nothing. No one dared gainsay him. Then, whilst Rhaegar was in the North, young Lyanna Stark went missing. She was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. The scandal was all consuming. Especially after young Brandon Stark tracked Rhaegar down with a gun. The Kingsguard intervened and and then Brandon was gone too and Rickard an otherwise hale and hearty man keeled over from a heart attack. Aerys demanded Ned Stark be handed to him. He was just a boy then, studying in the Vale. Jon Arryn said no.”

Sansa knew this. Her father had told them all one day. He’d sat them all down and with a grave face explained what Robert’s Rebellion was. Not some glorious revolution, but a secret war filled with murder and backstabbing.

“Aerys was infuriated. He ordered arrests of high ranking officials from here to the Wall and promised to burn the North. So Robert, Jon and Ned used their power as Lords Paramount, an old term by the way, to call an election. One needs four votes, which is why Jon Arryn married Lysa Tully and Ned married Catelyn Tully. We were Targaryen’s supporters. We shouldn’t have been, but we were. So the election was triggered and everyone campaigned. And then Tywin Lannister jumped ship and Aerys was sunk. He was voted out of power. A non-Targaryen ruler for the first time in a thousand years.”

Olenna’s eyes had misted over. Sansa’s father said that Brandon had hidden himself as a wolf and forgotten he was human, but Aerys had definitely had a hand in her grandfather’s death. Rickard Stark was a werewolf and werewolves didn’t have heart attacks. Her father had never said what happened to Lyanna, but Robert always said that they never even found a body to bury. Her father had searched the Targaryen prison/torture camp in Dorne located at the Tower of Joy.

An misnomer if there ever was one. He always said he found some Kingsguard members there, but no trace of his sister. Sansa thought he’d never gotten over it.

“Robert had Rhaegar arrested. Aerys had been arrested by Jamie Lannister… he had both executed after mock trials. He said if Rhaegar told him where Lyanna was he’d let him live. Rhaegar said nothing. Then Ned returned from Dragonstone and the Tower of Joy. There was no trace of Lyanna. Robert asked about the rest of the Targaryens. I believe that if Ned had brought them back, Robert would have had them executed too. Eddard Stark must have known that. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia were sent to Dorne and Viserys had already escaped. His mother bled to death in childbirth and the babe didn’t live. Neither did Elia. Time spent at Dragonstone as a prisoner to keep Dorne loyal killed her in the end. Supposedly she died from pneumonia.”

Sansa knew that Rhaenys and Aegon lived a quiet life with their uncle, Oberyn Martell. They never ventured out of Dorne and Sansa could see why. After seventeen years Robert’s anger had not faded. He wanted them dead. Others did too.

Olenna was speaking again. “So, the children were were given over to the Martells, but Robert wanted them dead. He still does. Last year alone there were four very serious, near accidents. Doran Martell says Robert’s behind them. Robert and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s the biggest culprit, however. The Martell’s believe Tywin ensured Elia’s death by telling Aerys to send her to Dragonstone. He wanted her gone so Cersei could marry Rhaegar. When the campaign looked bad for the Targaryens, he jumped ship. The Martells want revenge and we want a Tyrell in power.”

Sansa reeled in surprise. Tywin Lannister responsible for Elia’s death? Tyrell’s plotting for the presidency? Next to her Margaery and Loras were equally surprised.

“Garlan. You’ve been pushing him into the spotlight for a few years now,” said Margaery, simply.

Olenna nodded approvingly. “Well done! I knew you would get it. Yes, we will be backing Garlan, as will the Martells. First, however, we have to remove Robert from power. You were to marry Joffrey, expose him as a sadist and the twisted little monster he is. We would then… handle the twins. Expose some shady business deals. Tywin would be ruined, Robert impeached, and an election called.”

Sansa doubted that was the full plan. Her mind scrambled to make sense of everything. The Tyrells were a family to quietly acquire power. Growing Strong. Putting down roots, slowly moving up the ladder. Huge power grabs like this were not their speciality. The Martells must be more involved than Olenna was letting on.

“Well, does this settle your curiosity?” Olenna moved to turn back to her desk.

Loras, who had remained mostly silent, finally spoke up. “What about Baelish?” he asked. His voice was quiet.

Olenna picked up her pen and rolled it between her fingers. “He will be dealt with. Replaced. I have no use for disobedience. Have you given my offer any thought?” Olenna asked, then began writing.

Loras glared at the back of his grandmother’s head.

Margaery placed her hand on his arm and they both climbed to their feet.

“Thank you for being honest, Grandmother,” Margaery replied.

Olenna said nothing, but as Sansa followed them out she couldn’t fail to spot the small, proud smile on Olenna’s face.

“Offer?” Margaery was asking in an edged tone as Sansa caught up with the siblings.

Loras squirmed.

“Grandmother will ignore me and Renly, if, when Sansa Stark returns, I ask her to marry me.” he muttered.

Margaery rolled her eyes. “No doubt to keep her away from Joffrey. How do we even know she’s not some homophobic religious nut who will insist you never go near Renly again?” There was a weird hitch in Margaery’s voice.

Loras gave her a strange look. “Where is this coming from?” he asked.

They took a left and headed out into the gardens and the magnificent sunshine.

Margaery didn’t answer until they reached the lake. “I don’t know. It seems too neat. If Grandmother is telling us the plan, it means we no longer feature in it. You marrying Sansa, me marrying Renly… it just seems too good to be true,” she sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears.

Loras laughed suddenly. “You have a crush! On someone you’ve only ever seen in missing posters!” he howled.

Margaery shoved him, even as her face turned red.

Sansa felt herself shudder. A crush. It was almost laughable. At the same time, this was the longest without a blackout she’d gone. So she clung to Margaery’s crush and Olenna’s scheming because it was human and she needed to stay human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) for beta'ing the story.


	11. Chapter 11

Flea Bottom, for all its gang violence, still boasted a large market. Jon leant back against the wall and took a drink of water. Next to him, the man he’d called a colleague for the past two days chuckled.

“If I were you, boy, I’d be drinking something a little stronger,”

Jon shot him an irritated look. The man in question was a recovering alcoholic, but he had a point. Most labourers who filled the pool of unskilled labour within the market were almost permanently drunk. A trait, he’d come to understand, that was completely unique to Flea Bottom. His sobriety was beginning to mark him out as different, but fortunately he’d managed to put some thought into his reply.

“Drink isn’t for me. My old man drank like a fish… I’m not turning out like him.” Jon watched the older man from the corner of his eye. He knew as soon as he’d said it his explanation had been accepted and this man would ensure the excuse would be around the market by nightfall.

A call rang out and Jon turned towards the source of the noise. A young boy, no older than ten, was weaving his way through the crowds. Jon pretended to be uninterested, but he knew without a doubt he was the one the boy was looking for.

Just as Benjen and Jon’s father had predicted, once he’d gotten their attention the Wildlings wouldn’t be able to stay away.

“Oi, is your name Brandon Snow?” asked the young urchin.

“What’s it too you?” Jon asked, feigning suspicion. Nearby his colleague made an unobtrusive exit. In Flea Bottom it was wise to let the Wildlings do what they wished. Anything else and you might find yourself entertaining unwelcome guests late at night.

The boy shoved a note into his hands and raced off. Jon knew that the Wildlings used children to relay their messages to fool the guards, but once you knew what to look for the Wildling couriers were easy to spot. They didn’t demand a tip for delivery for one.

He unfolded the note carefully. Inside he found large, loopy writing he would have attributed to a child if the note weren’t signed “Ygritte.”

snow  
come to the old iron gate barracks tonight if you fancy paying that ponce slynt back for bagging you the other day  
ygritte

He read the note twice and glanced up. The Wildlings would almost certainly be watching him from now on. He couldn’t risk one wrong move here or the relatively slim chance at infiltrating the Wildlings would be gone for good.

He tore up the note and took a stroll down the street. Two homeless men were grouped around a fire in a barrel. He dropped the remains of Ygritte’s note in and jogged back over to his stall. The owner gave him a fearful look.

Although, the stall keepers paid the Wildlings protection money, most were afraid of the gang; those that weren’t didn’t last long in Flea Bottom. He gave the man a reassuring smile that had little effect. He could tell from the man’s scent that he would be politely asked to not to return at the end of the day.

That was fine. He could use that. Until then it was a matter of waiting and so he passed the time throwing himself into work. Heavy boxes, carrying things to waiting carts… in a way he was enjoying the highly physical labour. At Winterfell he ran and practised martial arts, but there was difference between this and the exercise he did there.

The day ended and as predicted the store manager stammered out an excuse about too many hires and Jon took this news with some argument. It was enough to convince onlookers he wasn’t happy and he took his money and left.

The Wildlings would have seen that, he knew. He had to play his part perfectly now.

He went back to the motel and paid for another night. He didn’t go straight up to his room however. He needed a meal and although his stomach was churning with anticipation, he couldn’t afford to be weakened tonight.

Then it was a matter of making his way to the old barracks by the Iron Gate. Jon was unsure what the Wildlings were planning there. It was close to Slynt. Very close and there was a huge guard presence there. Slynt couldn’t afford to lose his closest foothold to Flea Bottom and still claim to be winning his war against the Wildlings.

It wasn’t a long walk, but it took him away from Flea Bottom at least. The houses began to thin out as evening gave into night and darkness fell. The note had not been very helpful about what he was supposed to do when he reached the old barracks.

The old buildings were only partially inhabited by the Gold Cloaks. He kept to the darkened areas as he got closer, avoiding the increasing patrols. It was typical of the Gold Cloaks to only be where they weren’t needed.

In the end he needn’t have worried about what to do when he arrived at the old barracks because the messenger boy from earlier was waiting for him. The boy didn’t speak, but he pointed him to disused house across the road.

The door was unlocked and inside he found Ygritte. Before he could see the rest of the group, however, he was pinned swiftly to the wall.

“Is this the boy, Ygritte?” growled the man who had him pinned.

“Aye,” she replied softly.

Hands patted him down roughly, but all they found was the hunting knife he’d decided to take with him. It worked well with his backstory that Benjen had crafted for him.

They concluded the search and confiscated his knife.

“He’s clean. Let’s hope you haven’t fallen hook, line, and sinker for one of Slynt’s men, eh? Or worse, a black brother,”

As soon as Jon was let free,he spun around to examine Ygritte’s men. For the most part they wore masks and face paint. Identifying them would be impossible, especially with how dark it was.

“All right, now Snow has joined us, let’s get started. Slynt messed up the other day and now Mance says we have to show him how bad things can get when he doesn’t accept our money and let us do our thing. So here’s the deal, we are gonna take several jars of wildfire and stick em’ under the guard post over there and watch the pretty colours, got it?” Ygritte’s voice was low.

Jon somehow wasn’t surprised to find the leader of the Gold Cloaks was taking bribes from the Wildlings to allow them to operate in Flea Bottom untouched. Yet it sounded like Slynt had decided enough was enough. Perhaps yesterday had been an attempt to do the right thing on Slynt’s part? After all he’d arrested what looked to be high ranking Wildlings.

Around him the Wildlings moved into action, each heading down to the basement of the house at varying speeds.

Ygritte moved next to him and thrust a mask into his hands. “You don’t want your mug plastered all over local news. Even if it happens to be a nice one.” Then she was gone, flashing him an impish smile.

Jon blushed and pulled the mask on to hide it.

In the basement the largest of Ygritte’s men had pulled open a hatch that led into a tunnel. The rest were grabbing jars from a box. Jon took note of how careful they were being with them. He turned towards Ygritte, but she held up a hand.

“Wildling secrets, Snow. Maybe some other time.” Even after she had donned her own mask, he knew she was laughing at him, even if he couldn’t see her face. He bent down and lifted up his own jar and followed the others down into their tunnel.

Everything was silent bar the dripping of water. The tunnel went on for some time until they reached a newish ladder leaning against a wall. Jon looked up, but whatever was above them was also consumed in darkness.

One of the Wildlings climbed the ladder first before taking everyone’s jar. After the wildfire was secure and safe, the rest of the group climbed up.

Jon examined his surroundings, looking for any clue as to where they were.

The building was old and clearly not maintained. The windows were boarded up and looked to have been for some time.

Ygritte tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a crowbar. She waved her hand over the opposite wall.

He followed, curious.

She began removing a section of boards over an old doorway.

Jon moved into help as the wildlings began picking up the jars once more. There was a feeling of excitement in the air now even though the group was tense.

Finally they pulled away all the boards and Ygritte produced an old key. She held it up and smirked before sliding it into the lock. It scraped as rusty parts were used for the first time in years. Ygritte caught his eye and nodded towards the handle.

As he leant over to open the door, Ygritte knelt down, ready to move through at speed. She had produced a long, evil looking knife from underneath her jacket.

He suppressed the shock at seeing it. It was an old Wildling design that barely saw use anymore.

He pulled the door, grunting at how heavy it was. The old hinges protested, but Jon was strong enough to wrench it open.

Ygritte darted through, waving for him to follow. Jon did.

They were outside once more.

Now he knew where they were. They had emerged onto a long, wooden platform. This was the old army administration building, left to rot when the forces had been downsized after Robert became President. The Gold Cloaks had only taken over a small part of the building.

They moved along silently, their breath visible in the cool night air. Behind Jon, the Wildlings shuffled along.

Ygritte halted the procession with a raised hand. She nodded and someone behind Jon passed forward a jar. Ygritte held her hands out and Jon passed it along before being passed his own.

Ygritte smiled at him. It was not a nice smile. Then she threw the jar into the air, directly at the Gold Cloak buildings below. The rest of the Wildlings threw their own and Jon knew he had to follow suit. He swallowed and hurled it after the other jars.

The jars seemed to hang in midair for a second before plummeting. Jon couldn’t take his eyes of the one he’d thrown. He wanted to know what damage he’d done, what costs this mission would have.

The jars hit the ground, a chorus of smashes. Faster than Jon had time to register someone hurled an old lamp, the flame contained in glass. It shattered across the gleaming greasey substance. Jon braced himself.

There was no fire, though. No explosion. Jon had expected roaring green flames. Instead the fluid in the jars glistened in the moonlight. Jon risked a glance in Ygritte’s direction, unsure what should have happened. Her face was pale and her lips were thin, fury evident on her face.

Below a voice called out. “Here! Who’s there!? What the hell is all this!?”

Everything was silent for a moment. Then the first of Ygritte’s Wildlings went to run and the unfortunate Gold Cloak yelled for help, sounding the alarm. The rest of the Wildlings began moving. Ygritte grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side.

Ygritte lead him back into the building into the tunnel they’d used to sneak in. He followed her, and even though she was running relatively fast now, Jon kept up easily. Werewolves could outrun a human any day.

They burst from the tunnel into the abandoned house. Jon glanced through the windows at the barracks. Though the houses blocked his view he could see the night was ablaze with searchlights and an alarm began to sound.

Ygritte was already moving. She kicked open the back door and ran through the garden.

Jon kept at her heels. They vaulted over the fence and weaved through gardens before arriving in a particularly overgrown one. The garden backed onto the city wall. Jon guessed it belonged to another abandoned house.

Ygritte did not approach the main gate, though.

Instead she patted her hands across the wall. Jon watched, baffled, until she came away with a rope in her hand.

“I’m hoping you can climb, Snow,” she muttered.

Jon took a deep breath as Ygritte handed him the rope. He began the ascent, regretting that he had never gone along when Robb took Bran out climbing. The walls of Kings Landing may have been far smaller than the vast wall of ice in the north but they were still huge.

He focused on his breathing as they scaled the wall. Behind him he could hear Ygritte grunting and sighing, struggling with her own ascent.

Jon was impressed, despite himself. Even for a werewolf this was hard going and Ygritte had none of his biological advantages.

Finally they reached the top. Jon followed Ygritte’s lead and they stayed low, moving along the top of the wall. There was no one to be seen but Ygritte seemed to be unwilling to take chances tonight. They reached a spot for them to descend.

He looped the rope Ygritte handed him into his belt. They went over the side together this time, feet hitting the wall almost perfectly in sync. This was a lot faster than the initial climb and when they got the the bottom of the road Jon realised they were extremely close to the Rosby road that led to the Iron Gate itself.

Ygritte had no interest in going back the area they’d just left. “Right, Snow, we have to reach the Dragon Gate as soon as possible. That’s the emergency meet-up site. Think you can manage that?” Her voice was soft. She looked exhausted and if Jon had been human he would not have been able to stand.

He nodded at her and with no more words, they both set out at an awkward jog.

Jon had lost count of the streets they’d passed since they’d snuck through the Dragon Gate. All he knew is that it was nearly dawn and he hadn’t slept in 24 hours. That coupled with the exertion had left him staggering. Ygritte was in no better shape.

Finally, they ended up in a small motel. Jon assumed the owner was sympathetic to the cause because Ygritte handed over no money. He did remember the feel and heat of her body as she curled up next to him and the smell of her hair.

The sun was high in the sky when he awoke to an empty room. It was better kept than the one he had at the other motel, but it would still be considered downmarket by most people.

He swung himself out of bed and stood up, running his hand through his hair and trying to gather his thoughts.

Contacting Benjen was out of the question; that would require heading back into Flea Bottom. His thinking was cut off by Ygritte coming out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel, her red hair dripping wet. Jon noticed other things. How far up her thigh the towel left bare, for instance.

Jon’s face grew warm and he knew his cheeks must be red.

Ygritte smirked upon seeing his expression, but her face became serious again.

“As much as you enjoy the show, Snow, we have have a problem to deal with.” She indicated the chest of draws with one hand.

Jon moved over and examined them.

“Our friend here dropped some clothes off this morning. Should help us fly under the radar until we get to Mance. Someone up there is playing silly buggers and Mance will want to know who,” she said while removing the towel to dry her hair.

Jon felt blood rush to his face once more and he desperately tried to change the subject.

“What happened last night?” he asked, staring up at the roof. He cringed internally as he heard his voice crack. He knew Ygritte would be smirking at him if he chose to look.

“I spoke to Orell--you’ll meet him soon--apparently Valik got hauled off into protective custody the moment my guys reached the Red Keep. Orell thinks he spilled about the plan and the location of the wildfire. He’ll be handled, but it does mean the Wildlings are out a lot of that stuff. Which is a blow.” Ygritte scowled and Jon tried not to let on that he was relieved.

Wildlings having access to less wildfire was always a bonus. Benjen would no doubt hear of Jon’s involvement from this Valik person. That reassured him a little. Benjen and his father would be worrying about him, he was certain.

He picked out some clothes from the drawers Ygritte had indicated and went to get his own shower, thoughts racing. Slynt hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone about knowing a Wildling stash of wildfire. If he had, Benjen’s plan would have been very different.

Once clothed, he met Ygritte outside of the room. She was locking their door behind her.

“We have to go. I have a meeting location for Mance. He says he knows who switched our wildfire with water.”

Jon tried to stammer out a question, but it seemed Ygritte had made up her mind. She was not about to let anything delay her. Jon guessed she was feeling the sting of being set up quite keenly. She would no doubt lose face the Wildlings.

They began their trek through King’s Landing. The city was wide awake, but they seemed to blend in, looking like a young couple out for a stroll in the sun. To his surprise they did not venture close to Flea Bottom.

Instead Ygritte led him towards Visenya’s hill. The square in front of the Great Sept of Baelor was as busy as always. Jon was careful to stay close to Ygritte; he had no desire to get lost now.

She led him to a well-kept house just off the main square. Ygritte pounded on the door before turning to Jon; she seemed on the verge of saying something, but before she could the door swung open.

Tormund stood just far back enough to be in shadow. Ygritte nodded to him and entered. Jon paused on the threshold. If Ygritte was telling the truth, then Mance Rayder was within and he’d be meeting the man he’d joined the Wildlings to bring down.

He took a deep breath and moved inside.

“Welcome, Jon Snow. It’s nice to finally meet you at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the excellent CommaSplice


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait between this chapter and the last. As always this has been beta'd by [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)

Eddard was sitting at his desk when Robb’s new girlfriend entered the room. He glanced up from his papers, expecting Robb to walk through the door behind her. He frowned when his nose told him that Robb was not even in the house.

“Can I help you, Talisa?” he asked, keeping his voice level. 

Talisa flushed slightly but sat down in front of him. It took her a while to speak.“I was on shift yesterday. I heard something… odd.” She seemed torn over whether it was even worth telling him, but Eddard felt his senses kick into overdrive. Talisa was worried, but unsure whether she should actually be. 

Eddard smiled, reassuringly. “No matter how odd it sounds, if you’re worried then it must be something. Tell me.” He kept his voice soft. He didn’t know Talisa well yet, but Robb was quite taken with her. These days it was hard to find Robb without some trace of Talisa’s scent on him. And vice versa, he thought as he sniffed the air.

“Yesterday, I was sent down to the morgue. I bumped into the coroner there. It may be nothing, but… he’s retiring. This is a man that is famous for gambling debts. He’s apparently rich enough to retire and set off on a year long cruise. I asked him about it and he seemed afraid. I checked in on the rumour mill and his retirement is being funded by the hospital. It runs almost to half a million stags and Pycelle signed off without blinking. Something is wrong.” She was frowning now. 

Eddard felt a trickle of cold run down his neck.

“There’s another thing…” her face looked pained. “I can’t prove it, but this agreement with Pycelle was made straight after Jon Arryn went through the morgue. Some of the more junior doctors are muttering that he rushed it. The lab guys say they never got any bloods through and that’s standard when a public official dies… regardless of age.”

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He didn’t need this. His long term mentor was dead; Robert was blithely leading the realm to its ruin; and the Lannister family were the ones leading him there.

Now there were irregularities with Jon Arryn’s death.

Finally he turned back to Talisa, who was watching him expectantly.

“Mention this to no one. I’ll investigate it,” he told her. 

Talisa nodded and got up to leave before pausing and turning back to him. “What about Robb?” she asked. 

Eddard shook his head at her. The last thing he needed was Robb snooping about the hospital and putting himself in danger.

Talisa left without saying anything else.

Eddard closed his eyes and tried to think. He wanted desperately for this to be a mistake, but a cold feeling in his gut told him something was wrong. He’d bet Ice, the ancient Valyrian sword of the Starks, that the Lannister family would be dead in the centre of it.

Catelyn entered the room, smiling upon seeing him. He returned the smile, but he couldn’t feel happy at the moment. His wife frowned, apparently noticing his mood. He could not ask for a better wife than Catelyn. Truly he could not. She seated herself opposite him in the chair Talisa had vacated. “What’s the matter, Ned?” She asked, her voice gentle.

It took him a while to find the words. “Talisa told me there is rumour going around in the hospital that Jon Arryn’s death was not entirely natural causes.”

It felt wrong to say it out loud. Jon Arryn had been a very old man. Well into his eighties by all accounts. 

Opposite him Catelyn frowned. “Ned, he was eighty six years old… are you sure?” she kept her voice steady, but Ned could detect a tremble in it. 

He knew his wife had been torn about coming south. The north was safety, but the south was her childhood. It was also the biggest threat to her children. 

“Remember when we first got here? Robb said Lysa was claiming that Jon was murdered,” Catelyn recalled. Her eyes were wide. 

Eddard was troubled.

“We can’t ignore this. I know we came down here to find Sansa but something is terribly wrong, Ned. Can we afford to ignore it?” her voice was low as she leant across the desk. 

He stared at her, wishing they could go home. The south had never been good for his family.  
“You’re right,” he said slowly. His heart was heavy, but his wife was right. It was too dangerous to ignore the current troubles. He thought about Jon who had gone undercover in the wildlings and Robb who had become a media darling overnight.

“We need to contact Lysa,” Catelyn said. 

He agreed, Lysa was closest to Jon Arryn and she had been the first to suggest his death was foul play. How she had known was beyond him at the moment. Robert would also need to be told.

He thought hard, who else would know anything? The coroner. Talisa hadn’t mentioned when he was leaving, but she hadn’t said he was gone yet.

“Go and contact your sister. I’m going to head to the hospital and get in contact with the coroner. If Talisa is right then the coroner will know who offered him his generous retirement package. I seriously doubt Pycelle was at the centre of this.”

The Aegon Memorial hospital was heaving with people. Robb had spent hours raving and ranting about the state of the hospitals in King’s Landing and Ned could see his point. The situation here was clearly worsening.

Two gold cloaks were standing guard at the door and four more were in the vicinity but none troubled him as he passed. The young nurse at reception was eager to please, but woefully snowed under with work. She seemed relieved when he only required directions to the morgue.

He made his way down, foregoing the elevator. Elevators made him nervous; he hated to be closed in. It was a trait he’d passed on to Rickon, Arya, and Bran. Robb and Sansa seemed unaffected by the wolven need to be in an open space.

The basement of the hospital was cold but well lit. Compared to the main area it was practically empty. He peered through a nearby door and watched two morgue assistants preparing a whole slew of bodies for release. He sighed. Most of the unfortunates looked to be poor or homeless. 

This preparation was probably the most money the state had spent on them in a long time.

He moved on, trying to banish the morbid thoughts, but they haunted him as he walked through the corridors, searching for the Coroner’s office.

“Lord Stark!”

He paused and turned. Janos Slynt was standing in the corridor behind him having stepped out of one of the side passages. Ned stared at him. The man was terrified but impressively, was hiding it well.

“What brings you down here?” asked Slynt. 

Ned had a sinking feeling about the whole situation. He mustered a small smile. “I’m looking for the coroner,” he said. 

Slynt swallowed hard; his smile became slightly more manic. The man was born to lying, if Ned hadn’t had his advantages he’d have missed it for sure.

“What for?” he asked. 

Ned strolled over to him before answering, peering down the side passage he’d come from. Three gold cloaks were down there, two standing guard over the door. Ned had a bad feeling it might be the door to the Coroner’s office. He thought fast. “I came to talk to him about my son’s girlfriend. Apparently he’d made several threats towards her and she didn’t want my son to find out, but he’d intimidated her enough that she felt she needed help with dealing with him,”

He kept his voice pleasant. Slynt seemed thrown off by the excuse but recovered fast.  
“Lord Stark, you should have told me. The Gold Cloaks are here to deal with things like that,”

Ned offered him a smile. “I didn’t want to keep you from real crimes… like the wildlings. Still it seems his threats aren’t a problem anymore.” He nodded towards the guards and Slynt shrugged.

“I guess some people can’t handle being told they’re being let go. He dosed himself with some stolen meds. Pycelle tells me the man was desperate to remain at the hospital,” Slynt offered. 

Ned watched him. Slynt was clearly fishing for his reaction to the suicide.

“It happens. Poor man,” he offered. Ned knew that the excuse given was far from the truth. If it was true that someone had murdered Jon Arryn then the coroner had probably died because he knew who was behind it. He sighed.

A dead end in his investigation then. Perhaps Catelyn would know better? He said his goodbyes to Slynt, waving away the commander’s offer to escort him home. Something about Slynt made his skin crawl.

Catelyn was pacing when he arrived home. She stopped when she saw him, eyes questioning. He sniffed the air detecting a familiar scent. 

“Petyr dropped by earlier,” she said in response to the unasked question. 

Ned frowned. Cat’s childhood friend had a peculiar taste in cologne that made him want to wretch.

“How did it go at the hospital?” she asked. 

He sighed and sank into the sofa. “The coroner was dead. He apparently committed suicide.” He said nothing else, leaving his wife to connect the dots on her own. 

She surprised him however. “I expected as much. Littlefinger told me... well, you need to listen to the message Lysa left on the private line at Winterfell before I tell you.” Her face was drawn as she offered him her phone. He tapped the play button and Lysa’s voice began playing from the speaker.

“Catelyn, you’re the only one I can trust. They’ve killed my Jon. They want my son so they have a foothold near the north. Please Catelyn… the Lannisters are behind this. They want the Vale for themselves.”

He dropped the phone back into his wife’s hand and stared at her.

“Petyr says they’ve been planning this for a while. He says Tywin Lannister approached Robert Baratheon shortly after becoming VP. Petyr managed to overhear their conversation. Tywin wants to seize Robert from Lysa as a ward.”

“If Tywin gets Robert, he gets the Vale,” said Ned quietly. Catelyn nodded and Ned sighed, rubbing his face unhappily. “I always knew Robert was giving Tywin and his ilk too much power…” murmured Ned. 

Catelyn moved in front of him, her eyes fierce. “The only question is what we are going to do about them.”


	13. Chapter 13

Ygritte was furious with Jon, Tormund, and Mance. She’d broken some poor boy’s nose and Tormund was still nursing a bruise on his shin. To say that she had taken the reveal of Jon’s lie personally was an understatement.

Opposite him sat Mance Rayder himself. A small smile danced about his face. Beyond revealing that he knew Jon’s name and ordering Ygritte to be removed from the room, he’d said nothing.

Jon found it strange. He’d been told to sit down. Ygritte had been hurried away and the room had emptied leaving only him and Mance. Along with Mance’s two advisors: a masked man and Tormund. Mance stared at Jon and Jon stared at Mace.

“Well, Jon Snow, are you going to deny you lied about your name?” said the wildling leader, finally breaking the silence.

“No,” answered Jon. 

Mance raised his eyebrows and nodded. “So, you’re a black brother? I hadn’t known that. I’ll have to quiz Orell on why he failed to pick up on that fact.” Mance had a strong northern accent. He was no wildling Jon would bet.

“I’m not a black brother. My uncle blocked all my applications.” It was the truth, technically. 

Mance stared at him again then nodded. “Benjen Stark. Okay, Jon Snow, if you aren’t a black brother, why were you dropped into that van with my wildlings. You expect me to believe that was coincidence?” Mance asked. 

Jon shrugged.

He’d realised that Mance was curious about him. If he kept his nerve he might be able to convince Mance he was acting alone. It was a long shot.

“I punched my brother.” Jon was finding the role of surly underappreciated bastard easy to play. He began calling upon bitter memories of Lady Catelyn and seeing Robb’s treatment as heir.

“You smack the heir to the North and they try and send you to the Wall?” Mance eyes glittered dangerously. 

Jon shook his head. “I was never supposed to reach the Wall. Lady Catelyn ordered Jory Cassel to hold the transfer up near Winterfell and take me there. My method of transport was her idea.” Jon was surprised at how bitter he sounded. 

Mance seemed surprised too. “It’s all a bit convenient though?” It was a question, even if it was phrased as a statement. 

Jon shrugged again. 

“So you expect me to believe that your uncle arrives in town; you punch your brother; and get put on the first prisoner transfer to Castle Black only to join an escape attempt; lie about your name; join my wildlings, just stumbling from one coincidence to the next?” Mance was frowning now.

“I told Benjen I wanted to join him the moment he arrived. He said no. I got angry and picked a fight with Robb. Lady Catelyn was waiting for a chance to send me back and Benjen accidently gave her the idea to do it when he mentioned the transfer. She’d walk across hot coals to get a chance to humiliate me.”

Jon doubted Catelyn would go that far. Still she’d never been well-disposed towards him, and it was no secret that the wife of Eddard Stark had once considered divorcing her husband over his insistence on raising his bastard alongside his trueborn children.

Mance sighed and leant back in his chair.

“Why didn’t you go back to your father?” he asked. 

Jon sat up higher in his chair. “I don’t need him or them. I can make it on my own,” he said, petulantly. 

Mance chuckled. “Not to mention Lady Catelyn would have you carted back to Winterfell by your ears.”

Jon felt himself flush. Even though this hatred between him and Lady Catelyn was being blown out of proportion it was hitting him hard. 

His melancholy thoughts must have shown on his face because Mance reached across and placed his hand on his shoulder. Jon doubted that Mance believed him entirely, but he sensed a tension leaving the room.

“Did you want to join the wildlings, Jon Snow?” he asked. 

Jon stared at him. He had expected Mance to throw him out on his ear or have him killed. “You aren’t worried I’m a black brother?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

Tormund laughed from behind Mance. 

Mance glanced at him before smiling again. “If you are, we’ll kill you. As it happens Ygritte might kill you anyway. Still, if the rumours are true, you’re a capable man and I need capable men in the coming days,” Mance explained. 

“What do you need me to do?” asked Jon, not looking away from Mance’s face. 

The older man smiled. “We have a job to do. Debts to repay. When we’ve done this we’ll have Kings Landing at our feet.”

Jon nodded. This was his chance to avoid failure and prove he was good enough to be a black brother.

“I’m with you,” he promised.

Mance had a list of tasks that needed doing. Tormund followed along, making sure Jon didn’t wander too close to a black brother on his outings.

The jobs gave nothing away in regards to Mance’s plans: finding a motel and transport to the Twins; purchasing a battered old van from a used car salesmen; and threatening a few shopkeepers into paying protection money.

Jon put his foot down at that point, sensing a test.“If Mance needs this money so badly he can find someone else to terrify smallfolk into paying him!” he yelled angrily, horribly aware he may have misjudged the situation terribly. His route away from the strangely silent wildling took him back to the pub his room was in. 

The landlord brightened up upon seeing him. “Ah, young ser! Your friend is waiting for you up in your room.”

“Wait? My friend?” he asked, but the landlord was bustling away to serve an already tipsy man another drink. Jon stared up the stairs that lead into the motel area of the pub. He moved cautiously upstairs, wishing he hadn’t surrendered his hunting knife.

His door was ajar, but there seemed to be no movement inside. He pushed it open gently, somewhat surprised to find Mance Rayder himself sitting in the raggedy sofa. Jon stood in the doorway dumbstruck.

“Tormund tells me you left him behind after he had you threaten some of our more unwilling supporters.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Jon glared at the man opposite him. “I’m no thug,” he replied. 

Mance nodded thoughtfully, the small smile he’d worn when Jon had first met him back in place. “Neither are we. The protection money is less wildling and more gang-related. I’m holding the gangs in King’s Landing together, just barely. This is just one of the tactics I use.” Mance voice was soft. 

Jon moved into the room and shut the door behind him. “It was a test. You wanted to see how long it would take for me to lose my temper.” 

Mance laughed. “The boy has a brain in his head after all. You lost Tormund some money today. He swore you were a crow to the bones and that you’d go along with anything to get in with us.”

“So what now?” asked Jon, eager to get to the point. 

Mance indicated the bed opposite him and Jon dropped down onto it.“First, we get you better accommodations. I’m sure I saw a cockroach earlier. Then you’ll prepare for a trip to the Reach. I’ve decided to trust you, Jon Snow. I’m going to tell you why we’re here. Why I’m here.”

Jon remained silent. Mance was watching his face carefully, looking for any hint of betrayal.

“I escaped the Wall with those prisoners for a reason. Survival mostly. Not just for me. What are your family words, Jon Snow? Winter is Coming. This coming winter will be brutal and those beyond the wall… they don’t stand a chance. Our benefactor has generously offered to help with this problem.”

Jon recalled the tales of a winter so bad that even the sun didn’t shine. The Long Night. “You say you’re telling me the truth but this sounds more like the tales Old Nan used to tell when she wanted to frighten me as a boy,” 

Mance shook his head. “I’ll warrant that Wall will end up in a bad way sooner rather than later. That’s not our problem. Our problem is that someone paid us to kill the president and this trip the Highgarden is our only chance to do it. So that’s the plan.”

“You hint that a fairytale is coming true then tell me to gear up to kill the most heavily guarded man in Westeros,” Jon asked incredulously. 

“You can disbelieve my prediction about the wall if you wish, but we are going to kill the president, Jon Snow, and you will help us or you’ll die.”

Mance was smiling again. 

Jon stared at him. “So who is paying us?” he asked finally. Mance’s eyes shot up in mock surprise.

“No protest? I expected more, Snow.” 

“I’ve seen the state this country is in. It’s Robert’s fault. Friend of my Father’s or not, the man is a mess. His laziness and drunkenness have condemned more than hundreds to their deaths in King’s Landing alone.” Jon’s voice began to rise although he was horribly aware he was quoting his soon-to-be sister-in-law almost in verbatim. The woman was a firebrand with strong political opinions.

Mance began laughing in earnest. “How very political of you, Snow. Out to be a martyr? The North is autonomous. Tell me, it is a surprise to find the country in this state when the Starks do so well keeping us northerners well cared for, isn’t it? Still, I can see your reasons to dislike our president. I feel the same. As do most of our rag-tag bunch of Wildlings. Still my biggest motivation is money, specifically Tywin Lannister’s money and what it can do for me… or rather us.”

“I said those beyond the Wall wouldn’t survive the coming winter. I wasn’t lying, Jon Snow. Thousands will die. If I kill Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister will bring the Free Folk across the wall and give them land in the North to settle on,”

Jon swallowed hard. Tywin Lannister was behind all this? It didn’t surprise him much.

“Again not even a blink. Am I too believe you’re so cold to advance Tywin Lannister in the world? Or betray those you wished to join once by bringing their greatest enemy into the realm?” Mance was testing him again. 

“How could he grant you land in the North? That decision is ultimately my father’s?” Jon asked and then felt stupid for doing so. Tywin and his Father had been on bad terms for a very long time. If Tywin were president, his father wouldn’t last long. Mance didn’t bother answering him, but continued watching him. He was waiting for an answer to his previous question.

Mance was no idiot. He had to have something on Tywin. Jon doubted the Wildling leader trusted Lannister as far as he could throw him. What power did Mance have though? Jon knew the answer. “Just before Aerys the Mad was deposed, there was rioting in the streets of King’s Landing. The horrors the Gold Cloaks inflicted on the rioters allowed Jaime Lannister to arrest Aerys. I imagine something similar might be happening should Tywin become president,” Jon said, slowly. 

“It could. Regardless, Tywin has enemies and I doubt he’d cling to power for long. Then we’ll be rich men, free to melt away with what we’ve earned on new land. Maybe we could even restore your Father? So, Snow, are you with us?”

“How much?” he asked. 

Mance shrugged. “A lot. You’d never need to work again.” 

Jon moved to shake Mance’s hand. “You’ve persuaded me. I’ll help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) for beta'ing.

The Fury had been pressed into service once more, ferrying the powerful of the land to the grand celebration the Tyrells were hosting. Each great family had been given a compartment.

Those in the Stark compartment were currently existing in icy silence. Ned had taken up a seat closest to the door, glaring at the wall opposite him. Next to him Lady Catelyn was silent also, but her eyes held none of the harshness that Eddard’s did. Robb and Talisa were cuddling happily, and opposite them sat Arya and Gendry.

Gendry was fidgeting, horribly aware that Ned Stark’s anger was focused almost entirely on him. Dealing with Arya’s older brother had been easier, once the whole “if you hurt her I’ll have you torn to pieces by wolves” conversation had been navigated, though Gendry still doubted Robb believed he was just Arya’s friend.

The eldest Stark, however, had not taken the revelation of a five year age gap between his youngest daughter and Gendry well, even though the dark-haired young man had furiously insisted that he was just friends and that Arya had tricked him into agreeing to come.

Arya smiled sweetly at Gendry, noticing the sweat dripping down his neck. He smelt nice under all the grease and terrified dog.

Arya had not really given much thought to love before. She’d always assumed she’d never marry, being seventeen and completely brushing off the idea of boys in general. Sansa had once voiced the opinion that Arya should look at girls instead if she was so keen on never looking at boys.

Arya might not have minded the implication she was gay if it had come from anyone other than Sansa, especially since she half suspected Sansa was only saying it too be nasty. At seventeen, Sansa had been boy-mad. Gushing over Loras Tyrell and then how she was going to marry Joffrey and have children with him… Arya stopped that train of thought before she gagged.

She hadn’t told Gendry she liked him. In truth, Arya had no clue how to go about this. Her tried and tested method of being annoying, hitting him, and generally being a pest didn’t seem to be getting the point across. If anything they were developing a bit of a bromance. She supposed it wasn’t terrible that they were friends, but she wanted to take it further than that.

It was presenting a problem. Her father knew she liked Gendry. Robb knew she liked Gendry. Her mother knew because mothers were apparently psychic. In fact the only person who didn’t know was Gendry himself. How could she possibly tell him? 

How the tables had turned. Now Sansa was the wolfy one and Arya was fretting about boys and who she liked. She closed her eyes and thought back to their second meeting ever.

Arya was in Flea Bottom. Once all the spying on Littlefinger and attempting to locate her errant sister was done, Arya had been bored.

Jon leaving had hurt. He’d tried to explain it to her and after a while she had understood.   
Mance was a problem. A problem she could help with. Jon and her parents would never give her permission too, but then why should she bother them? It was just an innocent walk around Flea Bottom.

So she assumed her wolf form and had slipped away. It hadn’t been hard; Mum had been fretting about something to do with Aunt Lysa, and Dad had been yelling at Robert about everything.

So she’d just gone. She didn’t know where to start looking, though. Jon had said Flea Bottom but where exactly? She had started near the park Sansa had been captured in, keeping a wary eye out for Seaworth Dog Catchers, but there was no smell of Jon.

So she had snuffled her way through streets and alleys, eventually arriving at the main market. It seemed to be huge to her wolf eyes but her human mind maintained it was much smaller than the market that stood before Baelor’s Sept.

Arya watched people bustle by. They took no notice of the dog. This area was rough enough that stray dogs were hardly an uncommon sight, even with the Seaworths operating so close. She sniffed intently at the wind, closing her eyes.

Around her was a riot of scents: meat, spices, and sweet sugared treats. Those of unwashed men and sweat topped it off. The combination of odors was unpleasant, but her stomach growled at the smell of food. Because of all of this, she couldn’t smell Jon at all. She sighed internally. It was a long shot, but the market was central to Flea Bottom. Everyone passed through eventually.

She slunk around the edges of the market, watching for a glimpse of her older brother. She was so focused on the crowd that when she did see him she almost didn’t recognise him. He was leaning against the wall, talking idly with a larger scruffy man. Arya didn’t dare get closer; if he recognised her, he’d be furious that she’d followed him.

So she watched, easily picking the boy that was heading for Jon from the crowd. The boy was too intent, his eyes never leaving Jon’s face. Arya tensed up. The boy handed over the letter and bolted again and Arya made her decision. 

She gave chase, following him through winding streets. The boy was a good runner, almost certainly a wildling messenger. He was clearly ensuring he wasn’t followed. Would he pay attention to a stray? She stood out among dogs, mostly resembling a wolf. The boy didn’t look northern. Would he recognise a wolf or would he mistake her for a large dog?

He exited Flea Bottom and arrived at a shabby but non-descript house. Arya watched him enter and growled angrily. She needed a way to hear what was going on in there! Jon could be in danger. The house would have watchers, she knew that. She just hoped they weren’t too fussy about large dogs.

She slunk around the back, trying to look like a starving hound searching for food. She saw no one and heard no one. Anyone watching was either very good or non-existent. The backyard was cluttered with rubbish; from an old, rusted washing machine to rotting wooden pallets.

Underneath the mess, rats skittered about. Arya suppressed the desire to chase them. Flea Bottom had rats aplenty. If she wanted to play, she could do it later. She could hear the murmur of voices. Whoever the boy had met had moved to a backroom. She edged closer to the house. 

Still nothing.

There was something else on the air, though. A scent she hadn’t noticed at first yet as time went on it had become stronger, piercing her nostrils until she had to pay attention to it. She edged towards the mass of rubbish cautiously.

“Oh fuck, where did tha’ dog come from?” growled someone from behind her. She spun around. Two men had entered the backyard. One looked as if he’d dressed in the dark that morning and the other was dressed in clothes that only just escaped classification as rags. She froze.

The eccentrically dressed man smiled. There was no humour. Arya was immediately discomfited by it. “Excellent. I can demonstrate the product’s effect on living beings to you,” 

The other man looked disgusted. “I ain’t watchin’ you burn a dog alive, you sick…” he was cut off by the arrival of a third figure. This one was slimmer and better dressed.

“Burning dogs alive? Not here you won’t. Get rid of it Bal.” Unlike Bal, this one’s voice lacked a northern accent. 

“Sure, Valik,” murmured Bal. He crept forward and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. She snarled at him and he let go and staggered back, swearing. Realizing they could become violent, she trotted forward and snuffled at Valik.

The, as yet, unnamed man snorted dismissively.

“I suppose you’ll see it’s effects soon enough anyway,” he muttered. Valik patted Arya on the head lightly.

“Begin the demonstration. We need these for an operation tonight.” Valik’s tone left no doubt he was in charge at this meeting. Bal scuttled behind Valik, eyeing Arya fearfully.

The man strode forward, confidently and removed a long stick that had been propped up against the fence.

“This is only a small amount. Still I recommend you stand back.” Bal shuffled until his back was against the house’s back wall. 

Valik didn’t move.

The man pointed his stick at a pot the had been balancing in top of an upturned rusting shopping trolley. Then he leant forward and poked it off before flinging himself back as an explosion of green fire consumed the rubbish heap. 

Arya looked away hurriedly. 

Somewhere close to her Bal whimpered. Finally the roar of the flames died, the towering inferno having burnt out leaving patches of burning green flame. The heap and been reduced to ash and melted metal. 

“Impressive,” said Valik, a small smile dancing about his lips. “We’ll take everything you can supply to us and any you can make. Have it delivered to the safehouse by the Iron Gate.”

Arya took this opportunity to slip away from him and race from the house. That had been wildfire. Arya had heard stories, but Sansa had told her the secret of wildfire had been lost when the Targaryen dynasty had be swept from power.

She was shaken. She had to tell her father and Benjen about this as soon as possible. Valik had said that the wildfire was needed for tonight, and after the boy who had delivered a message to Jon had gone to that house she had no doubt Jon would also be involved.

Strong hands lifted her into the air and she bit down on an arm reflexively. She was dropped as the owner cried out in pain. It was Gendry. 

She tore away from him. The last thing she needed now was for the same fate that had befallen Sansa to befall her. The last thing she felt before everything went black was a needle sharp pain in her side.

She came around in her bed. She could feel the tension in the house. She pulled on the loose fitting pajamas that had been left by her bedside and staggered out. Gendry and Robb’s girlfriend, Talisa and her family were seated in the living room in silence. 

Talisa would not stop staring at Robb, as if he was some sort of fascinating but terrifying, alien and Gendry was staring bewildered at her father.

Arya felt her heart fall. Now she knew what had happened. Gendry must have shot her with a tranquiliser. She must have reverted back in front of him. He knew.

Talisa abruptly rose up and came over to her. She was gentle, but she checked Arya’s eyes, pulse and reflexes whilst muttering to herself.

“Unreal… impossible,” she murmured. 

Arya caught her mother’s eyes over Talisa’s shoulders and Catelyn shook her head slightly. 

Talisa spun around. “She threw off the effects of the tranquiliser in less than half an hour,” she announced. 

Gendry was clearly lost, his eyes flickering back and forth between the various Starks as if they’d all suddenly sprouted extra heads.

“We heal fast,” Robb said, stiffly. 

Talisa walked back over to him before kissing him, her hands gripping his face tightly. No one said a word as she pulled away, looking into his eyes. “I do not care. I do not care what you are. I love you,” she declared. 

Robb smiled as he realised the woman he’d come to love truly accepted him. 

Catelyn and her father beamed too.

Arya seated herself near Gendry, noticing the way he tilted away slightly. His eyes bore a faint wild look, as if he half suspected he’d gone mad and only just noticed. 

“Sooo, does anyone want to explain what happened after the idiot here shot me?” she asked, trying to keep the irritation at such a mistake from her voice.

Talisa unwrapped herself from Robb. “I was here with your brother when this young man came racing in. You were unconscious, naked. He had an old coat to cover you. Robb reacted very strangely and all Gendry would do was babble about wolves. I thought you had both been on drugs,” Talisa explained. 

Catelyn cut in, “Of course she wanted to take you to the hospital and Robb had to explain that what Gendry had said was true and that was the reason we couldn’t. Talisa here stayed by your side for some time.”

Talisa blushed as Catelyn looked at her with some pride. Evidently she had won round the family. 

Robb pulled Talisa back into an embrace.

“I’m still confused. How exactly can you guys be… werewolves?” Gendry asked, interrupting the moment. 

Talisa shot him a look but Arya could tell she was burning with curiousity too.

“Our family are descended in part, from the mythical beings known as the Children of the Forest. Whilst our bloodline used to be powerful we have lost most of that power now. But the blessing, or curse, of lycanthropy still runs strong,” her father explained.

“All your family?” asked Gendry. 

Her father nodded. 

Gendry arrived at the inevitable conclusion. “I helped sell your daughter to Renly Baratheon, didn’t I?” he groaned, slamming his head into his hands. 

Arya watched with some amusement. Now that Gendry knew the secret she was dying to know about Sansa’s capture--purely in a concerned sister manner. Not in a way that would give her extra ammunition for all the taunting she was saving up.

Reality intruded in on her suddenly as the memory of the wildfire and Valik came rushing back. She gasped despite herself. 

Her mother and Talisa rushed to her side bombarding her with questions, fearing after effects of the tranquiliser.

She fought her way out from underneath them. “Where is Uncle Ben? I found something out about the Wildlings,” she managed, spilling out a tumble of words.

Half an hour later Uncle Benjen and her father were in the study. 

Arya sat in front of them, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl.

“Wildfire… how?” asked Uncle Ben. 

Her father scratched at his stubble. “We searched the keep and city when we took control but the amount of wildfire made and the amount we destroyed never tallied up. It’s likely this figure merely found a store of it and is selling to the highest bidder,” he explained.

Uncle Ben shook his head. “Still doesn’t help us, if the highest bidder is the wildlings,” he sounded bitter. 

Arya tilted her head in thought. She had an idea. 

Her father must have caught the look on her face because he smiled. “Go on then,” he chuckled.

“Well… the wildlings wanted a demonstration for proof it was real. So what if we found where it was stored and changed it. Then the wildlings would think they got scammed. Double if we grab Valik. Then the wildlings will think it’s his fault. Valik knows who originally found it and that could give us a clue as to where the rest of it is,” she explained.

Her uncle and her father stared at her then turned to each other.

“Not bad, not bad,” murmured her uncle.

“Might work if we neutralise it, too much work to replace it,” said her father. 

Arya grinned.

Together they hatched out a plan. Arya would go wolf and locate where the wildfire had been delivered too by tracing Valik’s scent from the house he had been at this afternoon. Benjen would take some of his black brothers and distract any guards whilst Arya poured a neutralising agent into any Wildfire she found.

Gendry was confined to a room whilst they got ready. 

Her mother fussed over her, desperately worried, but Arya had no other choice. Soon evening would creep up on them and their window of opportunity would close.

Whilst she was out searching, her father contacted Robert whilst Benjen marshalled his troops. Robert would ensure that when whatever the Wildlings had planned with the wildfire happened, the Gold Cloaks would play nicely. Janos Slynt would never openly defy authority. 

Robert agreed to wait until the last minute to relay the information about the wildlings acquisition to Slynt. Now the Gold Cloak captain would have no choice but to ensure he collected all of the wildlings that he could. If too many escaped after they were handed to him on a silver platter it would end his time as commander and also, possibly, as a free man.

It hadn’t taken long. Valik had strolled through Kings Landing, stopping in several boutiques along the way. He’d eventually reached a ramshackle house located by the Iron Gate. When she’d arrived he was still there, supervising a white van unload jars into the house. Back up arrived soon after, just as the van pulled away.

Arya waited in the next garden over as her father and uncle enacted the first part of the plan. The two brothers had sent someone ahead to damage a nearby car. Then they had marched the occupants into the street and accused them of being the perpetrators.

Arya slipped over the fence and entered the house, moving silently. The basement had been left wide open, mostly because her uncle had pulled the door open and bellowed at the guard down there.

She crept down, wary of a second unseen guard, but no one was there. Good. There were about 12-13 pots of wildfire. Enough to do a lot of damage if allowed to. She worked quickly, refraining from properly investigating the room. 

Soon all the pots were rendered useless, the agent in them reducing the dangerous components to water. She scurried away just in time. Outside those protesting innocence had gotten louder. She jumped into the next garden and slipped through their gate onto the street before bellowing insulting things across the street at the group of black brothers.

They chased her and she ran, leaving the thankful wildlings to slip back into the house. No doubt to get a change of underwear. 

The swaying train brought her back to the present. Highgarden and Sansa were getting closer as they went. The biggest problem now was how they were going to get her away from the Tyrells.


	15. Chapter 15

Loras was breaking Margaery’s rules again. Sansa didn’t mind, though. It meant a trip out into town and the town was full of things she could use an anchor to her human side. Olenna explaining her plan to the Tyrell siblings had grounded her--extended the time she had left but she was slipping again.

It had taken her uncle Brandon a month to lose himself entirely. Sansa knew she could hold on longer than that, but as to the damage she had wreaked upon herself she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t transformed for days now. 

Loras and Margaery had made a decision that until Olenna dealt with Littlefinger they’d keep up their charade. Loras had withdrawn again, the reaffirming of separation had upset him. His near constant presence in his room, only half due to avoiding Renly and half to do with worrying about ‘Lady’s’ ever shifting mood, was becoming a problem.

She recalled the hissed advice Margaery had given Loras. “Ros is nothing if not tenacious, Grandmother says. Stay away from Renly when the King’s Landing party arrive, I know you two. You’d spend the entire time looking miserable and attracting attention. From now on you don’t see each other until we clear Ros out of Highgarden.”

Loras headed into town early, hoping to watch the arrival under the pretence of walking his sister's dog.

Sansa watched as a train pulled into the station. Her muddled mind struggled to make sense of it. The steam was scary. People were streaming around them. There were smells and sounds and it was all too much. Her wolf instincts were on full alert. Nearby Loras was ordering a coffee. She watched the people getting off the train, challenging her mind to respond to them as a human.

She was somewhat surprised when Jon stepped of the train in front of her. He seemed equally shocked. The woman next to him, one with hair redder than Sansa’s human form, thumped him in the ribs.

“Scared of dogs, Snow?” she asked him. Jon didn’t take his eyes of Sansa. She could see how torn he was and see his pulse fluttering at his neck. The woman seemed to realise something was wrong and studied Sansa as well.

“It’s my father’s,” Jon managed to spit out finally. 

The woman shrugged. “Leave it, it’s just a dog,” she said, dismissively. 

But Jon couldn’t take his eyes of Sansa and their eyes met. 

He knew. He knew she was barely there. He wanted to help her and she felt a flood of relief fill her body. Jon would help her become human again, but Loras appeared to have noticed Jon and his redheaded friend too.

“Can I help you?” His voice was light but he had tensed up. 

Why? Sansa studied her brother, realising he was dressed in clothes that were only a step above rags. The woman was similarly dressed.

Jon said nothing, but he was looking at Loras with open dislike etched across his face. The look in Jon’s eyes was making Loras nervous. 

The redheaded woman pulled at Jon’s arm. “Come on Snow, we don’t have time for this,” she hissed, looking at Loras with distaste. 

Jon didn’t move, though. 

Sansa became aware of several other people moving close. They were dressed similarly to Jon and his companion. Behind her Loras was getting ready to fight, she could feel him subtly shifting into a more alert position.

Still Jon wasn’t moving and he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Sansa. Almost without thinking she moved towards him. He let out a long breath then moved forward towards her. Sansa was aware her tail was wagging. The part that was still Sansa was slightly disgusted at that.

“Snow! Come on we have a deadline to meet!” the redheaded girl's voice was almost panicked. She clearly hadn’t expected Jon’s strange behaviour. She couldn’t know about his family.

“Snow? A bastard from the north?” Loras asked. Sansa was surprised he’d remained silent for so long. 

Jon finally looked at Loras as if seeing him for the first time.“That’s my father’s dog,” he said finally. 

Loras snorted. “Well I’m sure you’ve got papers for that?”

Jon stood up and looked almost apologetically at Loras. “No, I don’t, but I’m taking her with me,” he said quietly, then he leant forward and unclipped the lead from her neck. 

Loras started to yell, but Jon ignored him. 

Sansa watched as Loras lunged for Jon. Jon was fast, though, Loras might be an athlete, but Jon wasn’t human. Her brother neatly avoided the lunging Tyrell and scooped her up in his arms.

“Snow! What the hell!?” yelled the redhead as Jon began to sprint across the platform. 

Sansa buried her nose into her brother's chest, inhaling his scent. Soon her nightmare would be over and she could go home to Winterfell.

Jon was fast. She suspected if her father ever found out how fast Jon had sprinted through town he’d ground him for weeks. Very few humans could run that fast. She could hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“I studied this town before we set off… there’s a motel not to far from the centre of town. He’s just amoral enough to let us hide out there,” panted Jon. 

Sansa struggled to make sense of the words as her brother ran. She was dimly aware of shouting behind them. It seemed to be getting further away though so she didn’t worry too much. All that mattered now was getting somewhere safe.

They reached the motel a few minutes later and Jon put her down gently. 

“Follow me,” he whispered to her and they stepped inside. She stomped on her urge to rush him in joy and forced herself to be well-behaved. Inside she was exultant. Becoming human again was within her reach.

Jon had a hushed conversation with the owner. Money changed hands, but Sansa barely paid any notice. Jon received a set of keys and together they went up the stairs. Sansa hadn’t expected Jon to be desperate to reach the room, but her senses told her that he was almost as desperate as her.

The room was dingy and not very clean, but she didn’t care. The moment Jon shut the door she transformed.

Bones snapped and lengthened, hair retreated into skin and her body twisted into a new shape. Her animal whimpers became human sobs and when she was done she found herself curled up on the floor staring up into the face of Loras Tyrell. 

Jon was the first to act. He lifted Sansa up gently and placed her on the bed, covering her naked body with a blanket. She wanted to tell him that Loras was gay and the she seriously doubted he cared about her being naked by her voice wasn’t working. All she managed was a breathy whisper.

Loras hadn’t moved. His eyes were glued to Sansa. He must have followed them. Jon was fast runner but Loras was an athlete in his prime. He might not have easily have kept up but she should have realised he’d be capable of following at least. 

“Lady?” he asked. Sansa wanted to laugh at how confused he looked. Confused was better than terror at least.

Jon locked the motel door and the the scraping of the key seemed to jerk Loras back into reality. Sansa watched helplessly from the bed, unable to speak to either of them.

“What the hell is going on?” demanded Loras angrily. Jon put the key in his pocket.

“Sansa, are you okay?” he asked softly. 

Sansa couldn’t answer him but Jon seemed to understand. 

Loras looked back and forth between them. “Sansa? Sansa Stark?” he asked incredulously. She supposed that she must look like hell for him not to recognise her instantly.

Sansa remembered that Olenna wanted Loras to marry her and she began to laugh. It was strangled and odd sounding, but she could laugh again and she exulted at it. 

Jon hadn’t even looked at Loras properly. Instead he had retrieved a grimy looking pitcher from the kitchen and filled it with water. He brought it over and sat on the bed, gently holding it up to her lips.

She slurped at it gratefully, her body trying to remember all the different human things it had to do.

“It always happens when one of our kind stays in one form for too long,” Jon said finally.

Behind him Loras hadn’t moved, just watched the interaction between the two siblings. “Your kind?” he said finally, his voice strained.

“Werewolves. It’s an old magic, passed down from the Children of the Forest.” 

Sansa was surprised at how calm Jon seemed compared to Loras’s wild eyes. Her brother stood up and paced the pitcher on the side.

“I didn’t think they existed,” said Loras and Jon took a step towards him. Loras took a step back.

“They do, or did. We don’t know if they survived beyond the wall. Sansa stayed a wolf too long. A healthy werewolf transforms about once or twice a week and spends a few hours in wolf form each time. The entire night when the full moon is out,” 

Loras was eyeing Jon warily, but he seemed to be less tense. Jon’s calm way of approaching him was working at least.

Jon moved back to the bed to provide more water for Sansa. She drunk deeply again, managing to spill less on herself this time.

She studied her fingers for a moment and the wrapped them around the blanket, intending to rearrange it. It took a few tries, but eventually she managed to grip it right.

Loras had watched her for a while before dropping into the sagging sofa in the corner of the room. “I guess we aren’t getting Lady back,” he said, staring at the ceiling. 

Sansa chuckled. “No,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. 

Loras glanced at her in surprise. 

Jon supplied more water.

“Soooo what happens now?” asked Loras, eyes flicking between Jon and Sansa. 

Jon looked at Sansa inquiringly. “Do you think he can be trusted with the family secret?” he asked, simply. Sansa swallowed, wondering what Jon would do if she said no. Kill him? Her gut twisted at the thought of it. She liked Loras, he was as sly as his sister when he wanted to be but she liked him. 

Sansa glanced over to Loras who was staring at them. She took a moment to organise her words. “I know your secret. You know mine. We can...” her voice failed her. She swallowed and then coughed. 

Loras stared at her. 

She tried again. “You have the solution to this,” she managed. Too much talking too fast. Her mind was still struggling to adjust. Complex plans were beyond her at the moment.

Loras froze, thinking. Then everything seemed to sink in. He flushed red as he realised what she was referencing.

“I see. You... ” He seemed to be in the same boat as Sansa with not being able to properly express himself. 

Sansa understood though. 

Loras sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, okay,” he whispered.

Jon, who had been silent, seemed to realise that there wouldn’t be a problem even if he hadn’t understood any of the conversation. He moved away from the bed, placing the pitcher down again.

“We’re even then,” she whispered and slumped back onto her pillows. 

Jon turned to Loras and studied him.“I need you to go fetch her some clothes. I don’t have any for her and I can’t go into town myself. If the Wildlings see me they’ll attack me. I trust you’ll come back?”

Loras had promised he would, still shell shocked by his discovery. He left soon after and Jon lowered himself into the chair that the Tyrell had vacated. Sansa looked at him.

“Why are you here?” she asked, needing something to focus on. Her body had begun to shake and not from the cold. Jon frowned but understood.

“You know about the Wildlings?” he asked. 

Sansa frowned. Her memory prodded at her, the beggars that crowded the student village. Many pushed from Flea Bottom… her struggling memory produced memories of a fire and fighting.

“A gang?” she asked. 

Jon nodded and then explained about seeing Benjen and going undercover, about Mance Rayder and Ygritte and finally about how Mance planned to disrupt the Tyrell ball by killing Robert Baratheon and how the Wildling Leader had said outright the Lannisters’ were responsible for the plan here.

Sansa listened. She could tell he’d rather be asking her the questions: Was she okay? Had any of the Tyrells mistreated her? She and her half-brother had never been close. She was too close to her mother to truly accept Jon into the family. Jon’s speech became gradually more awkward.

He finally gave in and asked.

“No, I haven’t been thrilled about this but it could have been worse,” she replied before giving him the whole story. Her voice was coming back to her now.

Loras slipped in looking harried. He was carrying several bags, Sansa noted they were from relatively high priced boutiques. She’d have to pay him back at some point. Loras handed the bags to Jon. “It’s crazy out there. Everyone got wind of the Wildlings after the scene at the station so the place is swarming with guards,” he explained. Jon began to rummage through the bags and pulled out a dark pair of jeans.

“These aren’t for Sansa?” he said incredulously. Loras snapped his finger, as if remembering some suddenly.

“Ah, I bought some stuff for you. Those clothes make you stand out a mile. Go get changed, I’ll help Sansa dress.” 

Sansa suspected Loras had taken some time out to think things over whilst shopping.

Jon started to protest, but Sansa cut him off. “It’s fine, Jon,” she said quietly. 

Jon gathered his clothes and headed into the kitchen. 

Loras held out his hands. She placed hers in his and he pulled her to her feet. 

She staggered but he caught her.

She took a moment to balance, feeling as wobbly as a newborn kitten. Humans did not walk on the balls of their feet, but after spending so long as a wolf it was hard to not fall into that. She concentrated hard and managed to stand without Loras’ help finally. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“No problem,” he replied. 

Strangely, Sansa felt no embarrassment at being naked in front of him. 

His hands fell around her neck.

“We should get rid of this, it’ll give everyone the wrong idea,” he chuckled, removing the collar she’d forgotten about. It dropped to the floor with a thunk.

“You want to ask me something?” she asked, sensing Loras’ fear. 

He’d moved over the bags to distract himself. He paused for moment but carried on arranging her clothing. Sansa eyed them critically, Loras had good taste.

“You already know what I’m going to ask,” he said, helping her step into the clothing he’d picked. It was awkward and she had to focus so she didn’t reply until she was dressed.

“It’s dependent on what my father says… But you know our secret. This is the only way I can think of that will ensure you never tell anyone. Are you okay with this?” she indicated the collar on the floor. 

Loras bent down and picked it up. “Margaery’s gonna kill me if she thinks it’s my fault Lady is gone,” he sighed, neatly avoiding the question. 

“It’ll be fine. I can distract her,” murmured Sansa, feeling the blood rush to her face. 

Loras looked amused.

“She’d certainly be amenable to distraction.… are you…?” His question was cut off by Jon’s entrance. 

Loras whistled his approval, much to Jon's embarrassment. 

Sansa snorted in amusement.

“I brought my car from the station earlier. I can drive us to Highgarden,” Loras announced, his arm resting around Sansa’s shoulders. She leant into him, realising she couldn’t walk without his help. 

Jon raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“We’re getting married,” she said simply, trusting him to know why she’d made the decision. 

Jon’s eyebrows climbed even higher. 

“Well, depending on what Dad says.”

“Congratulations,” murmured Jon and they headed out to Loras’ car. 

Sansa sighed as they did. Now that she was human again, she needed to figure out how she would deal with the Tyrells.

Marrying Loras was a start, still Loras would be forced to keep it from Renly. Sansa would have to keep it from Margaery… Sansa was unsure how she felt about Margaery. The dreams, the way her body had ached at the thought of the older girl.

She sighed to herself as Loras helped her into his car. Since when had she become so practical? Maybe she’d spent too long around the Queen of Thorns and her scheming grandchildren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice), thanks for all the work you have put into this. Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who have given Kudos and commented this past year, you guys really inspired me to keep writing.


	16. Chapter 16

“I assure you my lords, our men shall handle this.” Olenna was calm for woman who’d just been told that her home had probably been infiltrated by a dangerous and well-armed gang.

Robert’s scowl would frighten lesser men, but it did nothing to phase the Tyrell matriarch. Behind her Mace Tyrell was pulling at his collar and sweating nervously. Robert turned to the band of men he had assembled:Stannis, Eddard and Tyrion Lannister. 

The President was angry, but he still had to ensure the powerful of the realm were pleased. “I want you all to get to the bottom of this,” he commanded. Nearby two of  
his Kingsguard, Oakheart and Lannister, shifted.. They were clearly wondering why they were not being dispatched.

“Then might I request you take my grandson with you, my lords? He knows all of Highgarden and it’s surrounding town.” Olenna’s voice was one of careful neutrality but even Eddard could detect the anger that edged it.

“And can steer us away from any of your dirty secrets,” Tyrion Lannister said in an amused voice. 

Stannis glared at him, grinding his teeth.

Olenna leveled her gaze at him and smiled. “We Tyrells do not have dirty secrets, Mr. Lannister. Unless you count the special fertiliser we use to ensure the plants come out as wonderfully as they do.”

Tyrion laughed. Eddard promised they’d meet Loras Tyrell in the lobby and Stannis ground his teeth even more.

“I’m surprised the Tyrells allowed themselves to be taken by surprise like this,” murmured Tyrion. 

Stannis gave no indication that he heard him, but Eddard Stark nodded as if he agreed.

Tyrion sighed. He supposed it was a start.

“And what could you mean by that?” asked someone with a quiet voice. It belonged to a tall man with dark eyes that watched them all with a hint of amusement. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed looking for all the world like he had no care that armed insurgents were close by.

“Oberyn Martell. I’m surprised to see you here,” Tyrion responded, the group halted as the three men took in the dornishman.

“Why is a Martell at a party held by a Tyrell?” asked Stannis, more blunt. He clearly wished to move on with the investigation. Stannis had never been a man for wordplay and the careful dancing of a conversation.

Oberyn chuckled. “I have grown to be friends with Willas. The rest of the family may disapprove, but he invited me. I am curious as to how you intend to investigate the Wildlings?”

“We were intending to start at the the station,” Eddard said, breaking his silence. 

Oberyn nodded. “A good place to start. Perhaps I might tag along?” 

Tyrion did not like the gleam in his eye. Stannis provided them with his excuse to say no, however.

“We are already taking the Loras boy with us. He is one of my brother’s friends. We do not need another to help,” he growled. 

Oberyn nodded.

“Loras would be useful, I would grant. He was at the station when the incident occurred. Along with the family dog, I understand.” Eddard leant forward.

“Family dog? What family dog?” Tyrion blinked in surprise. Once again Eddard Stark showed more interest in animals than the more important issue at hand. First his lost wolfhound when his own daughter was missing and now the Tyrell family dog when Wildlings had invaded.

The look Stannis was giving the Lord of the North indicated he had the same thoughts. 

Oberyn seemed confused, his bait having hooked the wrong person.

“Yes... Lady I believe. A northern wolfhound of some sort. Odd choice for someone like Loras and Margaery, but they dote on it apparently,” Oberyn explained, also seeming puzzled.

Things clicked in Tyrion’s mind. The Tyrell family dog was the same as Eddard’s lost wolfhound. Was that why they had come here at the last minute? In that case why were they not searching for their missing child? Unless they already knew where she was and were assured she was safe.

Eddard settled down and Stannis took over the questioning. “We were not informed of Loras’ presence at the station. How did you come by this knowledge?”

Oberyn chuckled again. “Willas told me that Loras walked down to the station with Lady that morning. They were on track to reach the station for the time of the disturbance. When Willas asked one of the reporting officers, he mentioned that the disturbance started when the Wildlings confronted a young blonde man that bore more than a passing resemblance to Loras Tyrell.”

“You’ve heard the witness statements?” asked Tyrion. 

Oberyn smiled. “And seen them. The officer that reported it was very accommodating,” he explained. 

Tyrion frowned. “Perhaps you’d like to walk to the lobby with us and tell us everything you know?” he suggested, cutting off Stannis as the man attempted to demand information. 

Oberyn acceded to the request and the four men began their walk.

“The Wildlings arrived on an early train. Witnesses say two Wildlings got into an argument with Loras over the dog. One Wildling then stole the dog. At this point the station guards moved in close to defuse potential violence. Loras and the Wildling with the dog escaped and the rest began a fight with the Station guards.”

Eddard snorted. “The Wildling that stole the dog. Did he have long, dark hair? Grey eyes?” he asked. 

“How did you know? Yes, that matches the rough description,” Oberyn replied. 

Eddard rubbed his eyes with one hand and sighed as he found himself the centre of asttention in their little group. After a while, the Lord of Winterfell clearly decided some explanation was needed, after swearing them all to secrecy, he told them of his own investigation into the Wildlings.

“Jon agreed to go undercover with the Wildlings for Benjen,” Eddard stopped walking suddenly. “Look we can all agree on one thing, I don’t trust Janos Slynt as far as I could throw him. Jon was our only reliable way into the gang,” he said, lowering his voice.

“So your bastard broke his cover to steal your dog back?” asked Stannis, sourly. Disapproval was easily readable in the man’s tones. He was not one to allow the dereliction of duty to go unnoticed or unpunished.

Eddard sighed uncomfortably. There was more he wasn’t telling them, but Tyrion suspected he’d never reveal it willingly. He decided to head off the coming argument.

“So, it seems Loras was good suggestion anyway. He probably got a good look at all of the present Wildlings.”

They made their way to the lobby and waited. And waited. Loras Tyrell did not make an appearance and even Oberyn seemed concerned. Finally a young servant appeared and informed them that they’d turned the estate upside down, but Loras was not here.

“Did anyone see him return after the incident?” asked Tyrion quietly. The servant hesitated then shook his head. Oberyn swore and earned himself a glare from Stannis. 

“Not good. We need to head the train station as soon as possible,” Eddard murmured. 

Oberyn shook his head. “No, we need to hunt the Wildlings. There are only a few places they could be hiding. A shady motel would do them nicely.” 

Tyrion looked at him sharply. Someone had done their homework, clearly. A suspicion formed in his mind regarding Oberyn. He bit his tongue, though. It could be saved for later. Stannis and Eddard glanced at each other.

“Very well. I trust you have somewhere in mind?” said Stannis, face as serious as ever. Oberyn nodded.

“I hope you don’t mind, but when I heard of the Wildlings I did some basic investigating. There are three such motels in town. Only one of which had a large party booking,” Oberyn produced a flier from his pocket. 

Stannis took it gingerly and examined it. “The Knight’s Rest,” he read. His face was a picture of disgust. “Someone should teach these people how to write.” He handed the flier to Eddard, Eddard handed it to Tyrion.

The motel was seedier than even Oberyn had been able to describe. Tyrion wasn’t even sure it had seen better days, he rather fancied it had just popped into existence in this state to fill some kind of town obligation to have at least one terrible motel.

Stannis bore down on the poor owner, but Eddard stalked off. Stark occasionally paused to examine something or change direction entirely. This left Tyrion and Oberyn standing together in the gathering dusk.

“It seems odd to me that Lady Olenna would not realise her grandson had not returned after knowing he’d fought Wildlings,” murmured Tyrion, so the other men could not hear. 

Oberyn laughed. It was not a nice laugh. It lacked any real humour.

Tyrion carried on. “You seem to have done a lot of investigating by yourself also. Tell me, when did the Tyrells ally with the Martells?”

Oberyn clasped him on the shoulder and bent down to his level. His eyes glittered dangerously. Tyrion forced himself to meet them and hold their stare.

“The Tyrells are incidental. We want revenge. Your father ensured the death of my sister, I will see him destroyed.” His voice was low and angry. 

Tyrion swallowed. “I see. Are the Wildlings part of that plan?” he asked, mildly. 

Oberyn shook his head. “No,” he said and then he stood swiftly, his face indecipherable, and then he walked off to play the good cop to Stannis’ utterly terrifying cop.

Tyrion stayed where he was and took a deep breath. He doubted his father was ignorant of the Martells’ plans. Tywin Lannister might not know about the Tyrell involvement. He weighed up his options.

He could tell his father. His father might even believe him. However, a more likely outcome would be mockery and disgrace. His father had never truly believed Tyrion was capable in the politics department.

Very well. He’d let his father discover it by himself. Especially if Oberyn’s claims were true. Tyrion could see it. Elia had died of pneumonia and complications brought on by her prolonged stay at Dragonstone. The cold had destroyed her health.

His father may have suggested Dragonstone as a good place to store a hostage, hedging his bets as to who won the election. If Aerys won, Rhaegar would need a new wife. If Robert won, then Tywin could claim no knowledge.

Tyrion watched as Eddard walked back up. He motioned for Tyrion to approach. When he got close, Stark pointed at restaurant across the road.

“There’s a Wildling guard watching from across there,” he murmured. 

Tyrion followed his finger. Once pointed out he was easy to spot. He was uneasy and his gaze inevitably fell onto the motel… and Stannis, Oberyn and the owner. They were bickering about the right to search the hired out rooms.

“He hasn’t spotted us yet?” asked Tyrion. 

Eddard Stark shook his head. 

Tyrion glanced over to the other two men. “There are two ways out of that restaurant. If he sees me with them and then sees me in the restaurant he may run. Then you can catch him,” summarised Tyrion. 

“It's about what I had in mind. Go pass on this information to those two then. I’ll get into position,” murmured the taller man.

Stark vanished into the night and Tyrion forced himself into an unconcerned stroll. Oberyn was standing back Stannis listed off the relevant laws that allowed him to search the room. 

The owner seemed adamant that without a warrant he wasn’t handing over the keys.

“You two have fun arguing. I’m going to have a nice cup of coffee over at that restaurant,” said Tyrion pointed to the offending diner as he said it. Through the window he saw the guard jump slightly. 

Oberyn spotted it as well and grinned. “I may join you,” he said. 

They looked towards Stannis, his eyes flicked from the diner to them and back again.

“Go,” he grunted. The owner seemed more panicky now. Tyrion was sure he knew who was staying at his establishment. They proceeded across the nearly empty car park towards the diner in silence.

Tyrion kept the pleasant half smile on his face, knowing the now panicking guard could see their faces easily as the approached. 

Oberyn was mimicking the smile. Seeing that they were entering through the front the young man stood up and moved through to the back.

The diner was uncomfortably warm and the waitress behind the counter glared at them. Tyrion noticed more than a passing resemblance to the owner outside. Siblings, perhaps. 

“The owner’s sister,” murmured Oberyn, answering the unasked question. 

Tyrion nodded as if Oberyn had merely asked him if he wanted coffee.

The woman made no secret of her hostility. The moment they approached the bar she swore at them and told them she wouldn’t serve them. Tyrion apologised for any offence they had unwittingly caused and left via the backdoor, ignoring the woman’s angry cries of “You can’t use that door!”

Outside they found Stannis and Eddard. Eddard had caught the escaping guard and was holding him securely, despite his struggles. It occurred to Tyrion that Eddard Stark was a lot stronger than he looked.

“Well, I see you caught our runner?” asked Tyrion cheerfully. 

Stannis glared at Tyrion before turning his attention to the captive.

“Who are you working for?” his voice was dangerous. The man swore and spat. Stannis scowled in anger but Oberyn held up a hand. Stannis paused his tirade as the darker man stepped forward.

“It seems you do not understand the position you are in, friend,” Oberyn began. The man calmed slightly and looked at him, teeth bared. “From the moment Lord Stark here captured you, you lost your rights. As did your family members. Both your mother and uncle are now incriminated. So would you like to talk here? Or should we send Lord Baratheon to Highgarden to fetch reinforcements.”

The man stopped his struggling and went limp, his face pale.

“My family?” he said, in disbelief. His eyes flickered towards the diner, betraying the identity of his mother.

“Oh yes. They have stood in the way of an investigation commanded by the President himself,” explained Oberyn. The man was white as a sheet know as it sunk in.

“Please don’t hurt my family,” he begged. 

Stannis scowled at him. “My orders are to arrest all involved in the Wildling conspiracy,” he growled. The words “arrest” and “conspiracy” had an interesting effect on their captive.

“Wait, I can tell you everything I know. I know a lot,” he stammered. 

Oberyn caught Stannis’ eye. 

Robert’s younger brother ground his teeth in frustration but nodded. 

Oberyn smiled benevolently at the sobbing captive.

“Tell us everything you know and you and your family will be free to go.”

The young man nodded. “They asked me to watch the rooms. After the fight at the station… one of theirs betrayed them. They said he may have told the higher ups where they were hiding, they wanted to know who turned up. If I reported back accurately they’d let me take part in their plot,” he babbled.

“Plot?” asked Eddard, letting the man go. 

The man nodded, straightening his shirt.“Please… I lived in King’s Landing. My sister and my father died in the riots. I only joined the Wildlings because of that. They only took me here because of mother and my uncle. I’m not high in their organisation but I travelled with them. I know who they’re working for,” he told them.

Stannis seized him by the scruff of his neck. “Tell us,” he said simply. 

The young man nodded. It’s Lannister. Tywin Lann…,”

Something stung Tyrion’s cheek. As he raised his hand too see what it was the young man fell backwards, choking on his words. Tyrion’s hand came away from his cheek coated in blood as the young man hit the floor.

Next to him Oberyn had spun around as a car they had wrongly assumed empty tore from the car park opposite at speed. The crack of the gunshot barely registered with Tyrion.

Stannis seized him roughly. His face a mask of fury. Oberyn was running up the road, trying to get a good look at the car. Nearby, Eddard was lowering the young man to the floor.

“Dead,” he murmured. 

Stannis did not let him go. “Your father planned this,” he scowled. 

“I didn’t know. I swear,” he gasped, aware of the blood trickling into his collar. 

Stannis seemed to notice the wound. He let him go and stepped back.

“I did not know,” swore Tyrion, cradling his face slightly. 

Stannis stared at him, still seemingly unwilling to believe Tyrion would not know his father’s plans. 

Eddard joined them. “He’s telling the truth. He didn’t know,” affirmed Stark. Tyrion had no clue how he could be so certain, neither did Stannis, but his conviction seemed enough to get Stannis to unwind slightly.

Oberyn returned. “The car was too fast. I only got half their details,” he said. His eyes found Tyrion’s. “Your father is behind this,” he spat. 

Tyrion nodded. “It would seem so,” he replied. His mind beginning to work again. 

“It’s the word of a dead traitor against the Vice President,” pointed out Eddard Stark. 

Tyrion nodded. “I have access to some records at Casterly Rock. Podrick is there now. He could potentially find evidence.”

Stannis nodded. “Ring him. I will not allow Tywin Lannister to harm my brother, however much Robert insults me.”

“I want something in return,” Tyrion said, eyeing the Baratheon. stannis looked at him sharply, mouth twisting in disgust. 

The other two men remained silent.

“Jaime gave up his right to Casterly Rock when he joined the Kingsguard. I should inherit but my father has never confirmed that. Install me as head of Casterly Rock and I shall give you my father’s dealings on a platter.”

Stannis began to snarl a reply, but Oberyn, of all people, placed a hand on his shoulder and silenced him with another of his sharp looks. “It should be his by right,” he said. Stannis seemed to think it over. He was a great believer in rights and duty. Robert had insulted him with Dragonstone. The wound that had caused had never healed.

Stannis nodded. “You are right. Tywin is denying Tyrion what should be his by right,” he stated, more for his own need than anyone else's. 

Tyrion nodded, it was time to call Pod it seemed.“Once Pod gives me the proof I’ll hand it over to Robert in exchange for Casterly Rock,”

The deal was done. Tyrion couldn’t help but feel guilty. Jaime had been his father’s golden boy until he’d joined the Kingsguard. Heirs had been freed from their vows by a president before, something Tywin had been banking on.

Jaime had never desired Casterly Rock, Tyrion told himself. Jaime had only ever wanted one thing. It was most emphatically not Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice)
> 
> Hi, I need a new beta! If you'd like to help out please message me at my tumblr blog: probablycrazy.tumblr.com


	17. Chapter 17

The First Lady was already deep in her cups, Arya noted with distaste as the “ladies” were all shown into a side room. The trouble at the station was all anyone was willing to talk about, yet no one seemed to actually know anything.

Arya wanted to go and investigate. Her mother had other ideas and was keeping her on a tight leash, figuratively. She wanted no repeats of the incident that had led Gendry to discover the families true nature to happen in the middle of Highgarden. 

It was a wonder, her mother said, that they’d gotten away with it in King’s Landing.

So Arya sat down and was polite and ladylike as Margaery Tyrell breathlessly gushed about Highgarden and the upcoming ball, and everyone pretended Cersei wasn’t inhaling wine like it was going out of fashion, and finally, the greatest scandal, that it was not Stannis Baratheon’s wife who had accompanied him and his daughter, but a strange foreign woman with hair redder than even Sansa and Robb’s. 

The foreign woman smelt wrong, Arya had decided. It couldn’t just be perfume. She reeked of fire. She moved with an unnerving grace, it seemed to suggest something not entirely natural.

She had drawn the eye of most men here tonight, thoroughly earning her the disapproval of many wives. Including Cersei.

“Tell me, where is it your from?” the first lady sneered, insulting Margaery by cutting her off mid lecture on Highgarden history. The room fell silent.

The red lady smiled. It did not reach her eyes and Arya fought the urge to shudder. Margaery valiantly tried to rescue the good mood, but failed as Cersei waved her quiet.

“Come now, I think we’d all like to know who this woman is? Who takes the place of Selyse…”

The woman cut her off. “Lady Selyse is ill,” she said simply. 

Cersei laughed cruelly. “I’m sure she is,” she let the implication sink in.

“Perhaps you’d all like a tour?” suggested Margaery brightly. 

Cersei glared at the red haired woman and the glare was returned. Several ladies rose up slightly. Arya’s mother followed. Slowly the rest of the room did.

Cersei strode to the front, besides Margaery and another Tyrell cousin, Alla. Margaery was gushing about Alla’s many achievements and virtues. Her mother swept on, chatting with Alla’s mother. 

Arya noticed with some guilt that Shireen Baratheon had fallen behind slightly. Arya had met Shireen only once before. They had been thrust together as they were both the same age and her mother had commanded her imperiously.

Shireen had caught greyscale, a disease most people had suspected was wiped out in Westeros. Many parents had instructed their children not to touch the girl or go near her in fear of it spreading. Arya had never had such a problem with Shireen, it was unlikely to become active again. Anyway, werewolves were immune to the disease.

Shireen was bookish and not very pretty. Although she had been keen to share stories about old heroes she’d been less keen to reenact the battles. 

Arya weighed up her options practically.

Shireen knew history. Arya loved history too. If she and Shireen were deep in conversation, she could easily avoid the more awkward conversations about things like marriage and what she intended to do with her future.

She dropped back and Shireen offered her a small smile. Arya grinned at her.“Wanna go explore?” she asked. 

Shireen blinked in surprise, unsure. “My father said I should stay with Melisandre,” she whispered, not wanting to attract adult attention. 

Arya snorted. “Come on. It’ll be fun and you can tell me about Highgarden’s history,” she replied. 

Shireen looked at her, startled.“I don’t know much about that,” she admitted. 

Up ahead, Melisandre had drawn level with Cersei and the two had started bickering again. This seemed to make up Shireen’s mind for her.

“Okay,” she agreed and Arya seized her arm and the two quickly darted down a darkening corridor. Shireen had to cover her mouth to stop giggling. Arya got the impression Shireen didn’t disobey her father much.

“Why did you want to leave?” asked Shireen, once they’d thoroughly lost the group. 

Arya shrugged. “Cersei’s drunk and no offence, that Melisandre creeps me out,” Arya admitted, gauging Shireen’s reaction. 

Shireen scowled. “I don’t blame you. She creeps most people out. Father won’t get rid of her, though. People are actually converting to…” she paused as if she’d said too much. 

Arya tilted her head slightly. “Converting to what?” she asked. It seemed lately that there were too many mysteries and plots. Wildlings, Sansa disappearing, Littlefinger plotting… it was making Arya’s head hurt.

Shireen bit her lip and the leant in close. “R’hllor,” she whispered. Her blue eyes were serious.

“What is R’hllor?” asked Arya, adopting a whisper to match Shireen’s.

“He’s her god. She says he’s fighting against the Great Other. She says that the seven are false gods and that… that Father is this thing called Azor Ahai and that he’ll be president someday. She says he’s got to fight this Great Other,” she whispered. 

Arya almost laughed aloud. “Who would believe that?” she asked. 

Shireen snorted, a bitter expression settling on her face. “My mother… I think my father might as well,” her voice was small and trembly and Arya sighed.

If Stannis believed it he might betray Robert, cause more unrest. 

“I don’t… he’d never betray Uncle Robert,” muttered Shireen, as if reading Arya’s mind. 

Arya patted her on the shoulder, unsure of what to say. 

Shireen carried on. “Davos doesn’t trust her. He says I shouldn’t either… but she’s… people follow her and I heard a rumour she killed Maester Cressen…” she trailed off into a terrified squeak. 

Arya thought that Shireen must have been bottling this up for a while.

Arya hugged her. It seemed like the right thing to do. Arya had never been good with other girls. Sansa was. Idly she wondered where Sansa was. 

Shireen seemed surprised, then hugged her back. “Thank you,” she said when Arya let her go. 

“So Melisandre is majorly up to no good and Cersei is baiting her,” stated Arya, hoping that Shireen would see some humour there. 

The girl giggled slightly. “Aunt Cersei must be very drunk,” she mused. 

Arya snorted. “She was. Arbor Gold. I could smell it all over her,” Arya told her. 

Shireen frowned. “I couldn’t,” she said, as they began their walk up the corridor. Arya had to remind herself, again, that not everyone had super senses. She cursed her lapse and shrugged.“I met someone,” she said, in order to change the subject. 

Shireen whirled around and grinned. “Really? Who is he? What’s he like?” she asked. 

Arya tried not to pull a face. “His name is Gendry. He works with your Seaworths actually,” replied Arya, suddenly regretting her topic change. 

Shireen looked thoughtful. “I remember him. Father banned him from the house… I can’t recall why, though. Nothing bad,” she hastily assured Arya.

Arya tilted her head. It was like something was on the edge of her mind but she couldn’t quite place it. 

Shireen smiled. “But it’s good!” she enthused. 

Arya nodded, distracted.

“Arya… your sister…” Shireen had stopped again. 

Arya froze. Damn… she knew that would come up eventually.

“Not as missing as we thought she was,” she told Shireen brightly, hoping the girl would drop it. No such luck.

“So she’s okay? Why isn’t she here?” asked Shireen. 

Arya made a show of being the exasperated younger sister. “She ran off on holiday with a boyfriend and conveniently forgot to mention it to anyone. She thought they’d disapprove of him,” Arya explained, repeating back the story they’d decided on.

Shireen giggled. “Who is it?” she asked. 

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know, nobody tells me anything,” she replied. 

Shireen giggled again.

“Ah, but you were told to remain close to your guardians’ side,” echoed someone with an amused voice. Margaery Tyrell was strolling up the corridor. 

Shireen gulped slightly.

“I assured Lady Melisandre and Lady Tully I’d retrieve you,” she said, smiling as she reached them.

“Oh. Yes… on a scale of one to ten how angry is my mother?” asked Arya, dreading the inevitable lecture.

Margaery smiled again. Arya didn’t altogether trust this woman. “She isn’t… I suggested that you and Shireen shared a love of history and had gone exploring. It’s nice when young women get along together. Your mother calmed down at the thought of Shireen being with you. Apparently she views Shireen as somewhat sensible.”

Shireen blushed at the praise.

“Perhaps you could tell us some stories about the Tyrell history!” suggested Arya brightly. 

Shireen nodded.

“Let me guess, bored of Cersei sniping at everyone?” asked Margaery with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

Shireen flushed and Arya snorted.

“How about you help me find my brother and Lady,” Margaery suggested.

“Loras?” asked Shireen, just a little too eagerly.

“Lady?” asked Arya who’d met Loras Tyrell and had been thoroughly unimpressed.

Margaery laughed again.

“Yes Loras and Lady is my dog. We bought her in King’s Landing about a month ago,” she explained.

Arya smiled suddenly. This was too good. 

“Of course we’ll help you find Loras and Lady,” said Arya, trying and failing to suppress her smirk. 

Shireen looked confused at Arya’s sudden glee, but nodded along with her.

“So tell me about Lady. I just loved dogs,” enthused Arya, realising that a thousand little insults and hurts could be paid back with ammo she could glean from this conversation. “I mean she had a collar right? A leash… toys?”

“Yes… those things. We didn’t use the leash much she didn’t need it. She also never played with the toys we got her. It’s a shame, I wanted a dog that could play fetch,” Margaery pouted.

“A well-behaved dog?” asked Shireen.

Margaery nodded.

Shireen smiled. “I always wanted a dog, but Father said Dragonstone wouldn’t be appropriate for it.”

Margaery ruffled the girl’s hair and Arya couldn’t help but admire the action. Not many people would touch Shireen without hesitation.

“So what else? Did she sleep in the kennel? Have baths?” Arya was aware she must sound demented to the other two right now. 

Shireen was frowning at her, but Margaery seemed to not care about the questions.

“Ah, no baths. She never seemed to get overly mucky and trying to make her stay in the kennel was impossible. She always slept in my room. Until Loras decided to take her for a while.”

Arya was vaguely disappointed. Nothing she could really tease her sister with then. She decided to let the matter drop. Margaery led them through the house, occasionally pointing out a piece of art or a sculpture that was famous in some way or another.

Loras’ room was ajar, the inside completely clean. Margaery was frowning. His suit had been hung up on a rail but it was clear he hadn’t been by as the plastic still covered it. Margaery made a quick examination for any notes. “Odd,” she murmured. Then moved over to some hooks set into the wall. “His coat and Lady’s leash are gone. He must still be out with her but… he left this morning.”

Arya picked up on the worry in her voice immediately. With the Wildling trouble in town, Loras missing could be entirely more sinister than a day at the shops going on longer than expected.

They moved on at Margaery’s urging. She was upbeat still, but now it was strained. Arya entertained her with a story from her childhood, when she had snuck into the archery range at Winterfell and outshot her brothers.

“You must tell me about your sister. She’s missing isn’t she?” Margaery’s voice was careful and Arya sensed that there was an ulterior motive in her questioning, her eyes had taken on a peculiar gleam and even her posture had changed slightly.

“Oh… not really. She went on holiday with her boyfriend and didn’t tell anyone,” cut in Shireen. 

Margaery smiled, but she did not relax.“My my. She doesn’t seem like the type. I thought she was dating Joffrey?” 

Arya focused now. That question meant something to Margaery. “No… not for a while actually,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing. 

Margaery raised her eyebrows.

“Yet they are still the darlings of the media?” The question wasn’t quite an accusation Arya noticed, but it came close.

“You don’t actually believe what the media say? They’re all idiots,” snorted Arya, her feelings on the media were well known in her family.

“I see… my apologies. I’ve met most of the great families but never the girl who was to marry the president's son,” Margaery relaxed.

After that question, Margaery steered them back to where the other ladies were. Arya hoped her mother wasn’t too angry with her for ditching the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone currently reading, thanks for your support so far :)
> 
> This is the last chapter beta'd by [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice) so the quality of writing is going to fall in the next few chapters. I am very sorry for this.


	18. Chapter 18

Robert had sent away his Kingsguard when his investigation team returned with somber faces and worse news. Not that Robert seemed eager to hear what they learnt.

“You’re telling me I’ve got Wildlings, corruption… the lowest approval rating since Aerys Targaryen and now I’m supposed to believe my VP is involved with a deadly street gang!?” The president's face was red with rage. His fist slammed into the desk of his temporary office, knocking a paperweight to the floor. Robert’s eyes fixed on Tyrion.

“You believe your father could be responsible for this? You’re own father!?” he asked.

Tyrion grimaced at his volume. They’d been hoping to keep their discovery secret but at this rate the whole gala would know. His father would no doubt have plenty of time to prepare a defence.

“I… believe that these claims should at least be looked into,” he replied. Behind him Eddard Stark shuffled uncomfortably. Robert’s eyes flicked to his old friends face. Tyrion felt strangely relieved that the President’s attention had moved from him.

“Ned… tell me he was lying,” his voice had dropped in volume at least. Ned shook his head with a sigh.

“I’m sorry old friend. That boy truly believed Tywin was responsible,” 

Robert lowered himself into his chair with a sigh. He thought for a while and Tyrion fancied he could almost hear Stannis’ teeth grinding.

“Look… I’m willing to believe the boy thought it was Tywin but who tells their scout about their secret partner? And only kills him after he blabs the name? No one’s that stupid. Definitely not Tywin. Let’s just chalk this up to a dead end in the investigation, I won’t mention this to Tywin and we can move on,”

Robert’s word was final and they were promptly ejected from his office. Oberyn was waiting for them, an unhappy scowl on his face. Cersei was also there, probably the reason Oberyn was scowling.

“I knew we would not be believed,” he muttered to the group as they grew reached him. Stannis muttered something about his daughter and stalked off. Eddard followed him soon after. 

“Robert brought up some very good points however,” replied Tyrion. Oberyn fell alongside him as they began to walk.

“So, if my father is responsible why would a mere scout know he was involved?” asked Tyrion. Oberyn said nothing, his face furrowing in thought. They began to walk through the manor, aimlessly and in silence. Both thinking hard.

Tyrion allowed his mind to run. Framing his father would muddy the waters in any investigation but if all they wanted was another suspect then the word of a dead man was pretty thin. In this case it was doubly so as Tywin was head of one of the most powerful houses in the realm.

So perhaps it was pre-emptive defence. They didn’t yet know what the Wildlings had planned here and if Tywin were already dismissed as a suspect then people would be less likely to suspect him… in a twisted way.

Why would his father do this though? What could these wildlings do that would result in gain for his father?

Tyrion’s blood ran cold. Besides him, Oberyn halted having reached the same conclusion.

“Robert… he’ll go after Robert. He’s VP now,” murmured the darker man. Besides him, Tyrion nodded.

“We need to tell Eddard Stark. He’s the only one who can get through to Robert,” replied Tyrion.

The two headed towards the Stark rooms. Around them the household had begun to bustle. Servants moved around them quickly and with purpose as the final gala details were put in place. Tyrion checked his watch. They had time.

Much to their surprise, Robert was already there. He and Stark were arguing. Nearby, Catelyn clutched a phone. The argument broke off as they were shown in.

“Apologies if we’re disturbing you. We had hoped to see Lord Stark… but if the President is here too that helps,” Tyrion hoped his surprise hadn’t shown on his face. Eddard straightened up.

“If it's about Tywin Lannister supposedly trying to kill me, I know your theory. I can’t accuse my god damn VP of conspiracy with nothing but a dead man's word and Ned’s…” he broke off, flushing red. 

Although Tyrion desperately wanted to know just what proof Eddard had offered. Whatever it was had Robert less sure of his father's innocence. Besides him, Oberyn stepped forward. 

“If it pleases you, we may not have ‘no evidence’. Tyrion here has sent word to Casterly Rock for his assistant to legally search for any wrongdoing on their systems. All we need to ensure is that the wildling plot tonight is foiled,” Oberyn’s voice was soft, probably hoping not to carry to any of the Stark family members.

Robert was nodding. “That’d work. Probably. I’ll tell you what… I’ll double the guard on me tonight and tell the bloody Queen of Thorns to do the same. However well they’ve planned they didn’t plan for one of their own to betray them. They aren’t planning on a goddamn army protecting me.”  
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully.

“Hopefully, Pod will have dug something up soon. It depends how well my father hid it. Regardless, he shouldn’t be expecting betrayal from inside.”

Robert leant down and clapped him on the back with a bark of laughter, almost driving Tyrion to his knees. Then he stood up and strode away, calling to Eddard over his back.“See you at the party Ned… and tell your girl I said congratulations!”

“Your girl? Have you found your errant daughter?” Asked Oberyn. Tyrion was curious too. The Stark family had not behaved how he’d expected at all after Sansa had gone missing. Knowing where she was the entire time might explain some of it.

Eddard Stark flushed slightly. “It turns out my daughter was spending some time with a… lover,” he choked on the last word slightly.

Oberyn laughed. “Young love, hmm? But if congratulations are in order, am I to assume that she is getting married?” His eyes twinkled, humour in them now at least. Eddard Stark flushed darker.

“My my Lord Stark, that’s two of your children married in the space of a month!” exclaimed Tyrion in mock surprise. Part of him wished he could simply die of laughter in this room right now. After all, this meant that Joffrey had been spurned. Cersei would be furious. 

“We will be announcing the match today… Lady Olenna has kindly given us permission to,” Eddard looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Tyrion took pity on him.

“Well Lord Stark, I’m sure your daughter has chosen a fine match for herself. Finer than my nephew. Although, that’s not hard,” Oberyn laughed at that and they left Eddard to pull his hair out about the impending marriage. 

It may even be two by the end of tonight if Robb Stark proposed to that nurse of his. He bid goodbye to Oberyn and entered the Lannister quarters. He may not have much in the looks department but arriving in a bloodstained clothing might give the wrong impression.

He could hear his niece and nephew playing in the other room and smiled. Cersei clearly wasn’t here, otherwise they’d never be that loud. He went to find them. Arys Oakheart and Boros Blount stood watch over them and Tyrion frowned.

Oakheart and Blount may not be the most famous Kingsguard but he had been sure Robert had them scheduled to watch over him that night. He asked them about it and they shifted uneasily.

“The first lady has demanded extra protection for the royal family tonight. We were assigned to watch over the children,” replied Blount. Tyrion regarded the man and tried to keep the disgust from his face. Blount was a hopeless Kingsguard and Tyrion had to wonder how he’d even managed to be appointed alongside such people as Barristan Selmy and Tyrion’s own brother, Jaime.

“Then tell me, Ser Blount, who guards the President tonight?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. It was his brother. It was Jaime.

Blount merely confirmed it. Surely his brother wouldn’t break his vows again? Not to kill a president this time?

He got ready for the party with a heavy heart. Their attempt to ensure Robert was protected had possibly ensured his death.

He knew his brother loved Cersei but did he love her enough to do this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First unbeta'd chapter. I hope the phrasing isn't too awkward!


	19. Chapter 19

It was dusk before they make it back to Highgarden and the old house looked breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that Sansa stops for a moment and stares, enraptured. Loras placed his hand on her shoulder then locked his car. They’d all been pretty silent on the ride back.

The afternoon had been spent focused on her. Loras and Jon had teamed up, in a sense, teaching her to walk, talk and, more importantly for tonight, dance. She still ached though, her body still not used to it’s human form.

Loras took the lead, showing them an almost overgrown side path. The smells here made Sansa dizzy. She was still struggling to be human. Her senses were heightened still and she found herself feeling bad about teasing Arya over her sensitive nose. Jon was nervous. The Wildlings hadn’t been caught yet and it was a safe bet they’d be looking for him.

They were almost to the back of the house, hoping to use an old servant entrance, when they found themselves surrounded by Tyrell men.

“What’s going on here? Who are you three?” demanded the first, stepping forward into Loras personal space. The others shone torchlight into her and Jon’s faces.

“Oh! Sorry sir… we’re on high alert…” the torches were turned off as they recognised Loras. The security officer looked very sheepish.

“Why?” asked Loras, sounding almost perfectly innocent. Sansa remembered that he may not be the Queen of Thorn’s protégée but he was still a Tyrell, had still grown up with her influence.

A knot of fear she hadn’t realised was there loosened slightly. Loras would keep the family secret and she would keep his. This marriage was a good opportunity. He was a third son, that was true, but the other alternative was Joffrey.

In the circumstances, she could understand why Margaery had married Renly instead. The security guard had launched into a garbled explanation of conspiracy and Wildling plotters. Loras had faked surprise and turned to Jon.

“So those men that harassed me this morning were wildlings,” he said. Jon placed his hand on Sansa’s shoulder. She almost smiled at the protectiveness. 

“Right, I'm just glad we got the dog off of him and my sister was safe,” Jon was a better liar than Sansa would have believed.

Security allowed them to move on and they, Loras included, headed to the Stark quarters. “Sorry about that, some of them can be overzealous. The Reach isn't normally targeted by gangs bent on assassinating the president,” he murmured.

Jon knocked on the door to the quarters before turning to Loras. “I appreciate what you've done for us.” Behind the door was a slight shuffling noise before the door was thrown open by a young man with dark black hair.  
He stared at her and she stared at him. Then he went bright red.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know about…” he trailed off as he noticed Loras. Jon coughed to break the tension and he seemed to realise they were all standing around in the corridor and promptly let them in.

Sansa stepped in before Loras and found herself relaxing almost immediately, the smell of her family and pack. She sighed happily. Her father and Robb were clambering out of the chairs they’d sat in. Behind Robb stood a young woman, pretty and clearly from Essos. She smelled of Robb and Sansa couldn’t help but shoot him a grin that spoke volumes. He had the grace to blush at least.

Her father hugged her tightly, followed by her brother. She was shocked to see tears in his eyes almost. “Don’t do that to us again, pup?” he whispered. Then his eyes fell on Jon.

“Thank you for bringing her home. Now, Loras, isn’t it? Can I help you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“He knows, Dad,” murmured Sansa. Eddard frowned and studied Loras more intently now.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice suddenly steely. Loras inclined his head, seemingly unaffected by the sudden change in mood.

“Have no fear Lord Stark, I mean your family no harm. I’ll keep your secret as long as your daughter keeps mine,” His voice didn’t even so much as crack. Her father looked at her and she offered him a weak smile.

“In fact, I had a proposal to make. I know Sansa is agreeable but it would be a bad start to not ask you first,” Loras straightened up, then took Sansa’s hand. His hands were warm. Not unlike her brothers. She knew, from the way he’d shifted his weight that her father had not missed the significance behind the gesture.

“I see. What about Joffrey, Sansa? You’ve been planning your life with that boy years now, are you ready to give that up to keep the family secret?” he asked.

Sansa blushed, not entirely due to her father revealing her girlhood crush on Joffrey. Deep in her heart she realised it wasn’t entirely to do with the family secret. That had factored in, of course, but… Margaery. They would be closer this way and maybe Sansa could finally figure out why the girl haunted her thoughts. Maybe, as a human, she could figure herself out.

“I am,” she said, holding Loras’ hand tightly. “I can do this.”

It was then the door swung open again and the President stepped in. The three newcomers found themselves staring. Robert took in the sight before him then scowled. “I thought you had promised her to Joffrey,” he growled.

Her father rose to his feet and sighed. “I also said I would not force her if she did not wish to marry him.”

Robert grunted in response to that, his eyes resting on Loras. “Does he know yet? No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. We need to talk, Ned. Alone.”

Sansa could barely recall the last time she had seen Robert look so serious. Next to her, her father shifted uncomfortably. “I spoke to him, Robert. I smelt him lie to my face. He’s behind this, I’d swear it,”

The door, which had been left open, was filled again by her mother and younger sister. Her mother seemed to be halfway through a scolding when they spotted the tense stand-off. Arya ran forward and hugged her.

She laughed and hugged her sister back before her mother joined in, holding her more tightly than her father had done. Then she pulled back and examined her. “I suppose you’re no worse for wear,” she murmured.

“Thanks to Jon,” she replied. Her mother's eyes found her father’s bastard. Jon flushed slightly, her mother’s attention was not a positive thing for him.

“Thank you…, Jon.” her mother managed to say, before her eyes strayed to Loras. He fidgeted. “Don’t tell me, another one?” she asked, exasperated. Her father groaned and nodded.

“I came here to ask for your blessing to marry your daughter,” said Loras, earnestly. That gave her mother pause and she examined Sansa.

“Are you sure?” she asked, gently. Sansa nodded, not trusting her words. Her mother smiled happily. “Yes, you have my blessing and Ned’s too I’m sure,” The unspoken ‘Thank god it wasn’t Joffrey’ hung in the air.

“I’ll need a ring then, before tonight. And a speech. We can tell everyone she was with me the entire time.” Loras was quick to start planning, not unlike his Grandmother. Sansa felt a flicker of fear when she remembered she’d be meeting the Queen of Thorns in person.

“There will be some who know that isn’t true. What will you tell them?” her mother replied. 

“I’ll say I’m doing you all a favour by covering for a horribly unsuitable boyfriend,” he replied, easily. He’d clearly given this some thought. Her father nodded.

“I need to speak to Grandmother. She can provide a ring and she’ll want to know in advance if I’m going to be making any wedding announcements,” he continued. Sansa swallowed back nervousness and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll come with you. It’s only proper we announce it together,” she said. Loras paused and then nodded.

“Grandmother will know I’m lying. What will I tell her though? You spent the entire time here as a wolf?” he scowled suddenly. Her father stepped forward and patted Loras’ shoulder. 

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Make it known that with this marriage the Starks are willing to do business with the Tyrells at preferential rates. We have a few rare plants your lot have been after for years. Shall we say a small research centre based out of Winterfell? At least, to start of with…”

Her father left the implication hanging in the air. Loras would get the glory of finally bringing a Stark contract in and the ongoing glory of steadily cementing that relationship. However, if he betrayed them the relationship would end. Loras picked up the hint as well.

“That would please her immensely, Mr. Stark,” he said, politely. Her father nodded and turned to Sansa.

“Walk carefully around Olenna Tyrell,” he said. Sansa didn’t need the warning, she knew from her time here. 

“Don’t worry, I know,” she replied. Then they were gone, making their way down the corridor, past the guest suites and towards Olenna’s quarters. No one was about but servants.

“Loras… are you sure about this? Our two secrets are hardly comparable?” she hated how strained her voice still sounded. Loras took sometime to answer. 

“You’re right, they aren’t. Yet, this way I get to be with Renly and… that’s all I need really,”

Sansa nodded, smiling to herself. It was sweet, actually. She could imagine Loras being like the old knights, devoted body and soul to his lord. 

“What about you and Margaery? She’ll be very curious about you?” Loras was polite enough to not mention that she probably knew that Margaery was crushing on Sansa purely through what she’d seen on TV after Sansa’s disappearance. She still found herself choking slightly on the air. Loras took that as his answer and chuckled.

They didn’t speak again before they reached Olenna’s rooms. Loras squeezed her hand and she took a deep breath before nodding. Loras knocked and the stepped back. One the seemingly endless Tyrell cousin’s opened the door.

“Alla!” he exclaimed. On seeing him, Alla smiled in relief.

“Where have you been, Loras?” she hissed. Loras gestured to Sansa.

“Picking up a friend,” he said lazily. Alla examined Sansa before realising who it was. Her eyes went wide with shock.

“You!... I thought… Loras, what are you up to?” she asked. Sansa found herself chuckling. Clearly, all Tyrell cousins had managed to pick up on some of Olenna’s formidable skills. Loras just smiled and asked to be allowed in.

They were led into a sitting room, Alla babbled some excuse about having to get ready and then left as Olenna Tyrell made her way into the room. She stopped dead upon seeing Sansa perched on the edge of the flowery sofa, looking uncomfortable.

Her shrewd eyes flickered to Loras and then back to Sansa. “Well,” she said, lowering herself into the sofa opposite them. “Well, well, well.”

Loras cleared his throat. “Grandmother, I’d like you too meet Sansa…”

She cut him off with a raised hand. “Sansa Stark. Tell me, where have you been girl? You’ve had half the country out looking for you?” Olenna was fixing her with a look that suggested she was looking into Sansa’s very soul.

She thought of the excuse Loras had cooked up, that she had been with an unsuitable lover. Then of where she had actually been, with Margaery. Conflating the two sent her blushing and before she could stammer out the lie, Olenna chuckled.

“Never mind. I can see it in your face, girl. Who was he? No, it doesn’t matter. I suppose we’re telling the press she spent the time with you, Loras?”

Loras nodded. “I need a ring, Grandmother. I intend to announce our engagement tonight,”

Olenna nodded. “I can get you one. Well, I would never have thought you had it in you. Finally getting one of the Starks into bed with us,” Sansa blushed although if Olenna noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“My father also wished to discuss rare specimens of flowers,” she said. Olenna looked very interested in that.

“My, my. Loras, you’ve impressed me. I don’t say that lightly. Very well, announce your engagement tonight. I’ll get you a ring and we can all go along in this farce,”

With that decision she waved them away and ordered one of the servants to summon her son to her. Loras sighed and rubbed his forehead slightly. “That couldn’t have gone better, to be honest. Hopefully, she’ll be distracted by the offer and not try and pry.” He sounded tired.

Sansa didn’t answer him. She didn’t know what to say. “ We should go and get ready for tonight,” she said, as she realised she had to say something. Loras nodded and they parted ways without another word, both deep in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the chapter is unbeta'd. I tried to catch any mistakes but I'm terrible at grabbing them in my own work.


	20. Chapter 20

Sansa had not really been inside the grand hall the Tyrell’s held their formal meals and gala’s in all that much as a wolf. She couldn’t quite prevent the gasp that escaped from her as she entered on Loras’ arm. The hall was beautiful; lined with dark wood panels whilst delicate looking flowers and vines carved out of a similar wood looked down on them. Loras shot her a smile but she could feel and smell how nervous he was.

“Loras!” came a call. They turned and found Margaery making her way over to them, weaving between the large round tables. She was dressed in a beautiful blue dress that Sansa had not seen before; she found herself short of breath suddenly, leaning forward in an attempt to catch Margaery’s scent. Then she caught herself with a guilty flush and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Margaery reached them.

Margaery barely paid her any notice, Loras was the lucky recipient of her anger. “Where have you been!? And where is Lady? I looked all over for you two today!? Grandmother was furious with you, especially after the attack on the station.” Loras rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“Marge… listen. About Lady…” He managed to say. Margaery’s face fell suddenly. Sansa couldn’t help but feel a tug of guilt in her chest, Margaery had loved Lady. Now, she may never see her beloved pet again.

“About Lady? Did something happen?” She asked a in small voice. Loras let go of Sansa to embrace his sister.

“It’s my fault, Margaery. I took her down to the station and some ruffians stole her whilst I was getting coffee. Grandmother has her guards searching for them but…” He left the sentence hanging. Margaery pulled away from him, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Why did you even go down to the station?” She hissed, anger easily readable. You didn’t need to be a supernatural creature to see she was ready to slap Loras so hard he saw stars for a week.

Loras gestured towards Sansa. “I was collecting my date for the evening, Margaery.” 

Margaery turned her attention on Sansa now, all traces of emotion safely hidden. She seemed ready to make a sarcastic remark about Loras’ date or insincere greeting. Then, Margaery stopped; her mouth hung open for a fraction of a second. Sansa had been half hoping and half dreading the idea that once she’d seen her as a human, Margaery would lose this crush she had on Sansa.

The look in Margaery’s eyes when she realised who Loras had brought as his date put to rest any notions of that happening. Sansa could see Margaery’s entire body language change. Interested and curious. Sansa felt her own body respond, despite her attempts not to.

“Sansa Stark, how pleasant to meet you.” Margaery all but gushed, holding out her hand. Sansa took it awkwardly, noting that for all her excitement about meeting her latest crush, Margaery still had a slight hurt about her.

“I… It’s nice to finally meet you too.” she finally manages, cursing the slight stammer. Margaery beams, then throws her arm around Sansa’s shoulder, steering her towards a table. As they left Loras, Sansa caught Margaery shoot him a look that said very clearly that the issue of Lady would be revisited later. At volume.

“Grandmother has moved you and Loras over to our table, although I’m sure if you prefer to sit with the Starks something could be arranged?” she explained as she guided Sansa into a seat close to the podium.

“No… No, that’s fine.” Margaery smiled again and threw herself into the chair that was supposed to be Loras’.

“So tell me, where have you been? Your sister said something about a boyfriend?” Sansa forced herself to meet Margaery’s eyes and ignore the hand lingering on her leg. What seemed like a million years ago this would have been interpreted, by a much more naive Sansa, as friendly.

Suddenly, the realisation she’d seen Margaery naked hit her full force and she found herself reaching for a glass of champagne on the table to give herself time to calm down. Margaery must have misinterpreted the source of her embarrassment because she giggled and leant back, moving her hand finally.

“I do hope you stick with Loras for a while, it would be wonderful to get to know you, Sansa.” Said Margaery after Sansa had put the champagne back down.

Sansa felt brave all of a sudden. She leant forward and caught Margaery’s hands in her own. They were warm and smooth. “Oh, I intend too. It would be wonderful to get to know you too.”

An odd look passed over Margaery’s face and Sansa was sure that she would have missed it had she not seen it so often during her time as Margaery's pet. It was her sly, shrewd face. The one she pulls when she’s planning something, or suspects someone is planning something behind her back.

They chatter about other minor things; how good the weather has been lately; whether the Northern Giants have a chance of beating the Braavosi Water Dancers in the qualifier for the world cup; and finally…

“I’m sorry to hear about your pet.” Sansa finds herself saying, after Margaery nearly chokes up telling her about how she thought Lady would have loved Highgarden in the snow. Margaery looks pained.

“It’s very kind of you. I’m sure they’ll find her though.” When Sansa makes a sympathetic noise in response she adds, “She’s a very distinctive. Do you have her type down in Winterfell?”

Sansa has to stop herself from laughing at the question. “They’re very rare breeds.” She finally settles on saying. Margaery looks disappointed and Sansa finds herself clutching Margaery’s hands again.

“Lady loves you. I’m sure she’ll find her way back to you eventually.” She says, watching Margaery’s eyes widen in surprise. Sansa finds she means it too. She decides the moment she knows it’s safe too she’ll let Margaery know about her.

Their moment is interrupted by Arya. Sansa drops Margaery’s hands and shoots her younger sister a look. Arya merely smirks back. She hasn’t missed the signs, just like Sansa hadn’t missed her behaviour around Gendry.

“Mum and Dad are sitting at the table over there. They said to come over if you fancy a break from all the bigwigs that’ll be swarming the table.” Arya says, feigning nonchalance. Sansa blushes at the language employed, she’s sure her parents didn’t word it like that.

“Arya!” Any further attempts to scold her younger sister are cut off by Margaery giggling.

“Oh! Too good.” she laughs. Arya shoots Sansa a grin before retreating to the safety of the Stark table.

“I’m sorry about my sister…” Sansa begins but Margaery waves a hand and cuts her off.

“Arya is lovely. I wish I had a sister like her,” Margaery says and Sansa finds herself smiling because she seems so honest about it.

Any further conversation is derailed as Loras and Renly make their way over with Olenna moving behind them, chatting to none other than Tywin Lannister. Mace brings up the rear, looking dejected. Margaery moves to her own assigned seat, looking disappointed.

Sansa looks around the room and finds herself shocked at the amount of people that have filtered in without her noticing. They’re all filing away to their assigned seats. Renly drops himself down beside Margaery and Loras slips into the seat next to Sansa. Soon after, Mace and Willas arrive.

Willas is the same to Sansa as when she was a wolf. Gentle and kind. Mace kisses her hand clumsily and immediately monopolises his oldest son's attention. Renly smiles at her.

“We’re all grateful that you’re okay, Sansa.” he says.

“Oh… thank you. I hear your project is going well?” The moment she says it she wishes she didn’t. The Tyrell-Baratheon project was a very well kept secret and even her time as Lady hadn’t shown her what it was truly about.

Margaery had fixed Sansa with her look again, like Sansa was a puzzle to figure out but Renly breezed on, as if nothing was wrong. “Oh yes, very well. We’re very ahead of schedule with research,” he said. Perhaps he had assumed Loras had filled her in.

After her blunder, Sansa leans back and lets Loras do the talking, although the conversation between the two men quickly became stilted and awkward. She can practically feel the need for Renly rolling off of Loras, the fear of losing him. There’s a storm of emotion coming off of Loras right now and not a bit of it shows on his face. 

Finally, Olenna appears at the podium. The hall falls silent, talking whilst the infamous Queen of Thorns was giving an announcement was, even after she’d officially retired, still a bad idea for anyone wanting to be in the Tyrell’s good graces. 

Olenna smiles and Sansa is surprised to see it’s genuine. Then again, why would it not? Olenna has gotten everything she wanted. Loras was removing Sansa from the marriage market leaving Joffrey free for a Tyrell bride as well as forging a vital link with the Starks and her company's research had presumably made many breakthroughs.

Beside her she felt Loras’ shift restlessly in his seat. She pulled her attention away from Olenna’s welcoming speech to observe the hall. Renly was watching Loras, his face twisted into a frown. The rest of the Tyrell table were intent on Olenna.

Nearby was the Lannister table. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see Joffrey and Cersei seated there instead of at the Baratheon table. Cersei and Tyrion were already half way through a bottle of wine each. Tywin’s eyes were focused entirely on Olenna, as if he were committing every word to memory so he could analyse it later. Sansa was no fool, she knew why. Out of everyone in this room, Olenna was probably the most dangerous.

She was prevented from further scouring the room by a polite applause. Flushing and turning back to the front, like a child caught not paying attention by her teacher, she joined in. Olenna flashed the room another victorious smile.

“I’d like to invite my Grandson to the podium now, as he has a very special announcement to make!” She declared, as the polite applause drifted off only to start up again as Loras rose from his feet and nearly but not quite staggered up to the podium. He looked sick as he faced the crowd of assorted dignitaries.

Next to her, Renly tensed, as if he was going to stand. His eyes wild as they looked between Sansa and Loras. Margaery was also glancing between the two of them, but her look was shrewd and calculating.

Loras cleared his throat and shot the hall a shaky smile. “Hello and welcome to Highgarden. I certainly hope you’ve all settled in well,” 

Sansa closed her eyes and old lessons, schooling her facing into a polite smile. Soon, all the eyes in this hall would be on her and looking like she was about to throw up would be mocked in many circles.

“As I’m sure you all know, Tyrell’s are famed public speakers. Unfortunately, I seem not to have picked that skill up. Much to my Grandmother’s despair.” Loras chuckled. The crowd chuckled along side him, playing along.

“So I feel I should just get on with the whole thing before I’m disowned.” Another chuckle went round the room. “I will soon be joining the world of married men. My beautiful girlfriend, Sansa Stark, has consented to marry me!”

Murmurs and, not so-subtle, gasps were the crowds response to that. Sansa was tipped to marry Joffrey. For her to suddenly be marrying the third son of the Tyrell’s, who was widely considered to be uncatchable… Sansa smiled at Loras, looking like the happy bride-to-be, as she became the focus of attention.

Loras gave it a few moments to die down before continuing. “Sansa, you are without a doubt the most unique girl I’ve ever met. Beautiful, courageous and understanding, becoming your husband is going to make me the happiest man alive.”

The room burst out into applause and Loras made his way down from the podium, smile fixed in place. Sansa risked a glance at the other “happily” married couple. Renly looked like he was in physical pain but Margaery was nodding thoughtfully. Under the guise of accepting a congratulations from Mace, she peered over at the Lannister table.

Joffrey’s face was twisted into a look of pure loathing as he glared at Loras. Cersei though, her attention was on Sansa. Her eyes filled with hate. Tywin had not taken his eyes from Olenna though.

The Tyrell matriarch made her way back up as Loras took his seat, pausing to drop a quick kiss on Sansa’s lips. Mace clapped his son on the back, nearly launching Loras face first into a soup bowl. Willas shakes his hand and then turns to Sansa, quietly welcoming her to the family.

Then time seems to slow down. She smells the blood and smoke before anyone else is even aware something is wrong. The Tyrell’s are still smiling... Hyper aware, she senses Arya and her family become alert to. They can do nothing, as the doors are blasted open and the first shots begin firing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finalised how many chapters there are going to be now and I'm working on the last few. I'm also hoping to do a collection of one-shots based in this universe set after the story ends.


	21. Chapter 21

The first shots nearly deafen her. Time still moves at a crawl and she can barely breathe. For all her adventures recently, nothing had prepared her for bullets filling the air. Then she realises that people are moving, screaming and Renly is tipping over the table with Loras’ help and Margaery… Margaery is pulling her down into the pitiful protection.

Sansa can smell the Tyrell girl’s fear and some part of Lady that still wants to protect her pushes Sansa to pull the girl close, to put her body between any bullets that come her way. Renly and Loras have pistols suddenly, returning fire, calmly calling out enemy locations.

Sansa doesn’t feel that calm. Doesn’t feel panic either. Just smells the smoke and death and sees the Tyrell guards fall under gunfire. She sees the Kingsguard fall under the hail of death. Then more shouts, more gunfire and then silence. 

Then a woman screams and the world comes back to her. She breathes out, unaware she’d been holding her breath. Loras kneels down next to her as she desperately tries to breathe. Yet, even as she’s gasping in air, it doesn’t seem enough. She needs to run, needs to change, to flee…

Margaery pulls free of her hold, which must have been crushing in Sansa’s terror. Her hands curl around Sansa’s face and she forces her to look into the older woman’s eyes. “Listen to me Sansa… breathe. Come on, it’s okay. The Black Brother’s are here… your northern heroes are here to save us all,” she murmurs.

It takes a few minutes but she can breathe again. Then her father finds her, the relief in his eyes chases away the last of her panic and she throws herself into a hug. He holds her tightly.

“Everything’s okay now,” he murmurs. She clung to him for what felt like a few seconds but, judging from the activity in the hall, was probably a few minutes. Shakily, she let him go. Her father’s eyes are full of concern.

Her father assured her everything was okay… and then filled her in on what had happened in the ten minutes of gunfire and screaming.

The Black Brothers had been close by, apparently. Her father and Benjen had brought, what seemed like, half their number to finally put down the wilding gang. The Wildlings had pushed their schedule forward though.

“According to the information our informant gave us, they intended to strike during Robert’s speech. Their scare at the station must have tipped them off,” her father looked around sadly and Sansa detected weariness and sadness. Far more than an attack would provoke.

“Someone died, didn’t they?” She asked, in a small voice. Her father lowered his head. Sansa felt his grief and her eyes began scanning the room. Where was her mother? Arya? Her father rarely made such strong shows of emotion. Who was it?

“Robert… he was the target of this attack. His Kingsguard didn’t move fast enough…” her father’s voice was quiet. Sansa felt tears prick her eyes, relief and sadness battled for dominance.

Robert had been a drunk. Unfaithful to his wife. Terrible at governance. He’d let people die because of his complete lack of interest in being the president. Yet, even as she tried to keep this in mind, her rebellious brain showed her the memories of him lifting her into the air, laughing at Ned’s fortunate to have such a good daughter…

“The Kingsguard are down too. Jaime Lannister took a hit, Preston Greenfield’s dead… Selmy…” he trailed off. Sansa caught sight of her mother hurrying over and stood back as her father was pulled into an embrace.

The moment didn’t last long.

“I order the arrest of Tywin Lannister. He orchestrated this.” Stannis’ voice was quiet, but it carried. Those who were left in the room stopped and turned. Their was wariness in the air as people waited for the other shoe to drop. Her father pulled free of her mother and moved to back Robert’s brother up. His expression was fierce.

Tywin merely glanced at the nearby guards. They hadn’t moved, too shocked by recent events to rush into something else.

“A bold assertion. One I deny,” Tywin’s response was quieter than Stannis’ accusation. He was lying, Sansa knew that. Werewolf instincts didn’t count in court however. She hoped Stannis had some proof.

Stannis moved closer to Tywin and several of the man’s bodyguard’s tensed as if to intervene, Tywin waved them away. 

“I’ll find proof. The world will know what you’ve done today.” Stannis snarled, before stepping back. 

“I assure you, there is nothing to find. However, due to the unfortunate death of our president, I will be…” Tywin was cut off by Stannis

“I’ll make sure you never get to the Red Keep,” promised Stannis.

Tywin’s answering glare made Sansa’s blood run cold. It was a glare that promised that Stannis wouldn’t get the chance to stop him. Then Tywin moved away, his guards falling in behind him. 

“So the mighty Tywin Lannister walks away, president of our country, with no blame attached. I shall not allow it.”

Heads swivelled to face to newcomer. Sansa found herself strangely unsurprised to see that it was Oberyn Martell, a triumphant smirk in place. He moved to flank Stannis and her father. At his interruption, Tywin paused and turned back to face the now group of three.

“And what does the ‘Prince of Dorne’ think he can do to me?” Tywin asked. Oberyn merely smiled and took a deep breath, as if memorising this moment. His eyes glittered dangerously as met Tywin’s gaze.

“I have waited a long time for this. Tell me, when you advised Aerys to send my sister to Dragonstone… did you know it’d kill her… Or did you just hope it would?” He asked. Sansa could hear the grief in his words and recalled Olenna’s explanation. Elia had always suffered from poor health. She’d nearly died birthing Aegon. During Robert’s Rebellion she’d been sent to Dragonstone for ‘safety’. Dragonstone was notorious for it’s wet and dangerous weather. It had left Elia weakened and she hadn’t lived long afterwards.

Tywin seemed completely unaffected. He took a long look around the room, weighing up everyone who had gathered to watch. Sansa shuddered as his eyes passed over her.

“There is no proof of any wrongdoing. I can assure you of that.” he answered. Oberyn merely chuckled in response, stepping forward until he and Tywin were practically nose to nose.

“Which is not the same as no wrongdoing?” It was a rhetorical question and the Lannister patriarch didn’t answer. Sansa could the fury rolling off of him though. It drowned out everything else in the room. She almost didn’t notice Margaery rise slowly from her side.

“Loras… get Grandmother,” she hissed to her brother. Sansa risked glancing back at them. Renly and Loras were transfixed by the scene playing out. Renly was watching Stannis, Sansa noted, his face a war of emotion she couldn’t quite place.

Oh gods, he’s Robert’s brother. He just lost his brother...

“I’m afraid you’re wrong. There is proof. Maybe not of Elia’s death but the next best thing. Perhaps you should have been more careful when transferred all of that money to the Wildlings,” Oberyn moved away, hand held out.

From behind Stannis and her father stepped Tyrion Lannister, reaching out to hand Oberyn Martell a file of some sort. Tywin reacted then, his mouth turning into a snarl of anger.

“You’d betray your family?” he asked his son and the tone scared Sansa. Stannis and her father had merely irritated Tywin. His son’s betrayal had awoken a sort of madness in him. Her father had spotted it too, moving close to protect Tyrion should Tywin make a move.

“I would. I could pretend it was for noble reasons… the truth is this is the only way I’ll see what should be truly mine. I’ll get Casterly Rock, Father. You’ll live just long enough to see that,”

Then Tyrion turned and left the hall, not looking back as Black Brothers moved past him, covering the exits. Another group led by a familiar man clad in black moved in then. Some stopped to seize members from the crowd of Gold Cloaks. Her Uncle Benjen marched right up to centre of the argument. Two of the four Black Brothers grabbed Janos Slynt, Commander of the Gold Cloaks and hauled him away from Tywin.

The Lannister bodyguards were on full alert now, hands reaching for weapons concealed in their jackets. The surrounding Black Brothers were also on alert, already having their weapons trained on the Lannister men. Tywin seemed to shake himself from his fury and examine the hall. 

“This is not the end.” he promised, before gesturing to his guards to surrender. Benjen’s men did not seize him like they had done the lower born men but they did firmly escort him from the hall. Benjen nodded at her father and then followed his men.

If everyone had thought the night’s drama was over they were quickly proved wrong when Olenna Tyrell had discovered what had transpired in her brief absence. Se was in a fine temper. Her night of victory was ruined, a president had died on Tyrell soil. The vice president had been arrested by a foreign force and not her own security.

Loras and Renly had been running damage control since Tywin had been hauled away. Naturally,the Tyrell’s already had a spin. Reporters were being prevailed on to report that the assassination would have been impossible without Tywin leaking information and so on and so forth. Sansa doubted the Tyrell’s would be harmed by this in the long run, the fall of Tywin Lannister would be much more juicy for the vultures in the press.

It was well after midnight that Sansa found herself alone on one of the terraces attached to the suite of rooms assigned to the Starks. She didn’t feel the chill in the night’s air as she closed her eyes and desperately tried to make sense of today’s events. The wolf was still strong. It wanted to run, to find Margaery and…

“Am I interrupting something?” asked the object of her thoughts. Sansa’s eyes flew open and she stood, heart hammering away in her chest.

Margaery was stood in the open door, draped in a green and gold shawl. A small amused smile was playing about her face. Sansa offered her a weak smile in return and sat back down.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re mother let me in.” murmured Margaery. Then, as if taking Sansa relaxing back into the chair as permission to join her, stepped onto the terrace and lowered herself into the chair opposite.

They remained quiet for a moment. Sansa looking out over the garden, doing her best to ignore Margaery’s curious gaze. Knowing what she did about Margaery from her time as Lady, she knew that not knowing what had happened between her and Loras was eating Margaery alive. If she didn’t know better, Loras and Margaery had probably spent the last half an hour verbally sparring over his impending marriage and the circumstances surrounding it. That’s if she hadn’t spent it at Olenna’s heels, charming reporters.

“Loras has informed us all you spent the last month here.” Margaery said, suddenly. Sansa felt herself smiling again. Margaery’s eyes narrowed. “Which is of course, a lie. I think I would have seen you around if you had.”

“Perhaps you were looking in the wrong places then,” Sansa replied. This was dangerous. Margaery was clever and tenacious, she wasn’t going to let this go. If she thought Sansa was mocking or teasing her, that’d just make things worse. She knew she should tell her the easy lie of an unsuitable lover but….

She didn’t want to. For some reason, the thought of letting Margaery think she had a lover made her stomach flutter unpleasantly.

Margaery was directing the full force of her suspicion at Sansa now, leaning forward in her chair, her narrowed eyes searching for anything she could use in Sansa’s body language. Sansa knew, without a doubt, that she couldn’t lie to Margaery now.

Not with so recently being Lady, not with her heart pounding in her chest as Margaery so obviously examined her. Instead, she said nothing else. Margaery leant back into her chair, drawing her shawl about her.

“Well, perhaps I wasn’t. How did you meet Loras, anyway?” Sansa realised she was smiling again as she recognised Margaery’s tactic. Change the conversation, wait for her to let something slip and when she did… Margaery would pull at the thread until the whole lie unravelled.. She’s dangerous, Sansa reminded herself.

What had she and Loras discussed about this?

“My… holiday took me close to Highgarden.” She settled on. The strange unwillingness to outright lie about her imaginary lover rose within her again and Sansa cursed herself silently for it. She could put Margaery off the scent so easily…

Sansa closed her eyes and allowed Margaery’s scent to wash over her. It was less apparent as a human but no less intoxicating. She hadn’t realised how much she’d grown used to Margaery until she’d gone. Even when she’d been with Loras, she’d still been able to smell her and sense her.

“I actually came to thank you. You tried to protect me when the shooting started.” A change of conversation again. 

Sansa opened her eyes and watched Margaery warily. 

“I didn’t really think about it,” she answered. This was the truth. She hadn’t, really. Margaery moved from her chair and knelt in front of Sansa, her brown eyes were soft as she captured Sansa’s gaze.

“I’m thankful,” she said and Sansa is impressed because it sounds very genuine. Margaery raises a hand to Sansa’s cheek. “Sweet girl… I hope you know what you are getting in too with Loras. My brother is…”

Sansa cuts her off. Feeling bold and tired with careful conversations that seem more like complicated dances than genuine communication. “Loras is gay. I know.”

Margaery raises an eyebrow at her bluntness, but before she can respond to Sansa’s sudden forthrightness, Sansa forges onwards.

“I know. I know people think that I’m naive and just a bit silly sometimes but I know about Loras. And Renly. And you.” Sansa chokes out the last bit of her sentence and and Margaery lets her hand drop suddenly.

“It seems my brother has been quite loose-lipped with you,” Says the older girl. Sansa has seen a lot of Margaery over the past month but she’s never seen this. The Tyrell is retreating into herself as she stands up from her crouch.

Without thinking, Sansa is on her feet too, Margaery takes a step back from her. She almost looks afraid and Sansa can’t stand that. “No, I figured that out on my own.” Sansa says, feeling the need to defend Loras, and then because the unpleasant fluttering in her stomach starts up again she adds “Sort of.”

Margaery snorts but doesn’t move away and Sansa is reminded of the dream she had so long ago. The energy and tension she feels now is the same as it was then. She takes Margaery’s hand.

Margaery doesn’t pull away from her but doesn’t say anything either and Sansa can feel her heart in her chest. Her wolf tells her Margaery is just as nervous as she is, just as unsure as to what to do next.

“Loras and Renly are catching up. Actually, I left them arguing. About you.” said Margaery, breaking the silence. Sansa catches the implication. Renly and Loras are lovers and Loras won’t tell any of them why he was suddenly able to produce an engaged Sansa Stark out of thin air. What frustrated Margaery would feel like a knife in Renly’s heart.

“About me?” she repeats, not wanting to address the problem. It could wait.

“Yes. You know of Renly and Loras. And me. Loras has invited you into our agreement and we know next to nothing about you. Renly thinks it's foolish.” Margaery shrewd face is back. Even when she appears relaxed, she’s probably still plotting. Sansa takes a moment to remind herself that Margaery will always be.. Well, Margaery in this regard.

“Perhaps we could get to know one another then?” asks Sansa, feeling bold and wanting to distract the older girl from her questions once more. Then she blushes as Margaery raises an eyebrow. The Tyrell girl has her smirk firmly back in place. The change in demeanour is sudden.

She lets go of Sansa’s hand and Sansa tries not to feel disappointed at the sudden loss but Margaery takes her arm firmly and Sansa gets the feeling that if she doesn’t follow Margaery inside, she’ll drag her in herself.

“Yes, I’m dying to know all about you, Sansa. Don’t think I’m thrown off by your pretty face, I will figure out what you hiding,” Margaery declares as they enter the apartment. Sansa smiles slightly and tries to ignore the terror, dread and nervousness in her stomach.

Margaery was going to be a problem, she’d always known that. But, thought Sansa as she examined the other girls face as she led Sansa out of her parents suite and through the halls to her own room, Margaery was a problem for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is nearly finished now and I'm already drawing up some oneshots that will be set after the story. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi - apologies for the extremely late posting of this chapter! I have been wrestling with writers block, work troubles and health troubles. The next chapter will hopefully not take as long.
> 
> Thank you for all your support!

Sansa frowned slightly as The Fury jostled her, causing the paper she was reading to jerk about. Still, it didn’t take long to find her place again and Sansa was finding it hard to be overly irritated at things lately. Not with Margaery ensuring she was never alone for more than five minutes.

She allowed herself a small smile of amusement. Loras had advised her that his sister was doing it on purpose. Renly and Margaery were desperate to know what had propelled Loras and her together and neither would rest until they discovered the truth.

Evidently, Margaery had decided to smother her in kindness and attention. It was not a great burden but Loras had warned her that Renly would likely be more direct but every bit as charming.

She took a break from the doom and gloom that the news was pumping out to let her thoughts drift back to the conversation they had shared this morning.

-

They were both taking advantage of Renly and Margaery’s late mornings to walk together in Highgarden, undisturbed.

“They decimated the Kingsguard.” Loras said as they walked among the flowers. Sansa did not answer. Her father and the others had already had this conversation to the death. There was an air of disbelief, almost as if Robert Baratheon would saunter in and declare it had all been a massive joke.

Robert’s murder was the first time in hundreds of years a sitting president had been murdered and even longer than that since the entire Kingsguard were wiped out.

“They killed Robert and a dozen others in the hall. Not to mention what happened before they made it too the hall.” He continued, frowning at his own thoughts.

The Tyrell family had lost a lot of loyal staff that fateful night. To gain entrance to the Grand Hall the wildlings had gone through the kitchen, killing anyone that stood in their way. Only a small token squad had attacked the heavily defended door, and even they had done damage.

“Perhaps a change of subject.” she suggested, not wanting the day to be ruined before it really started. Loras seized the chance.

“Margaery has agreed that your family should keep Lady. Those fake papers that boy of your sisters rustled up worked a treat. I think she just wants to say goodbye.” Loras said, knowing he didn’t need to clarify. All the Starks were painfully aware of the one loose end; the one they had been at a loss to tie up. The whereabouts of Lady.

Gendry, of all people, had provided the solution and had forged some ownership papers. Jon claimed to have found the errant pet on behalf of his father and after a little theatre, that had been that. Margaery had been very upset, of course, but Olenna Tyrell had put her foot down. Even if Sansa got the impression she might have missed Lady, just slightly, herself.

“Grandmother convinced her that Lady wasn’t really suited to the south. You behaviour towards the end of your stay here was the example she used.”

Sansa nodded. Margaery would get over Lady, although she doubted this agreement had been reached without a good deal of debate. Heated debate that Sansa was very glad she had not been present for. Still, a goodbye could certainly be arranged. Probably at Winterfell, where they could make a big show of releasing Lady into the woods and provide a neat explanation for why no one ever saw her again.

Then, Sansa would be married. Loras had agreed to be married in the Godswood first and then once dust had settled and the elections had taken place, they were to be married in the Sept of Baelor.

“You seem… odd today.” Loras observed. He kept his voice neutral and Sansa was amused to realise he was trying to hide his feelings from her wolf.

“I… I was thinking. About Margaery.” She said, recalling the night she had transformed in Margaery's bed, and how confused the girl had been in the morning to find her precious new pet skulking about the room without its collar on.

“Not beasting you to hard is she?” he asked, glancing up at the house as if expecting to see Margaery watching them from a window. Sansa smiled to herself, almost expecting it herself. She was fond of Margaery and there was no doubt some spark of attraction between them… and that was the problem.

“No. I’m just confused. That’s all. It’s hard to figure out your feelings for someone when the wolf is strong. It can warp your judgement sometimes.”

A wolf was a wolf but Sansa was still wondering if Margaery hadn’t made a kind of dog of her anyway. Was it the wolf or the human that loved Margaery?  
-

Margaery’s entrance to the compartment jerked her from her memories. Sansa smiled politely as the girl dropped down in front of them. She looked as perfect as always, even if Sansa knew she was extremely tired.

“Our government is completely leaderless. No one seems to know who is in charge. The newspapers have done nothing but print Tywin’s secrets… oh, I see you already know that though. Have you read about how he planned to murder Aegon and Rhaenys yet? When that came out, Renly and Stannis had to physically stop Oberyn from trying to start round two.” Despite her exhaustion, Margaery was evidently in her element. Sansa merely shuddered and put her paper aside.

All manner of nasty things had come to the surface. Tywin’s master plan, his business ruthlessness. The Lannister family was reeling and the press kept reporting on more and more. Tywin had destroyed the hospitals, Tywin had funded the Wildlings, Tywin had ordered Jon Arryn dead… it seemed every major disaster since the Targaryen downfall had somehow been connected to Tywin Lannister.

“You aren’t fond of politics?” asked Margaery, when Sansa didn’t answer her.

“Tired of them,” she replied, stretching in her seat, then blushing as she realised Margaery was very obviously checking her out.

“Did Loras finally get bored of you questioning him about me?” asked Sansa, feeling the same rush of confidence and terror she seemed to get around Margaery. The older girl laughed, delighted by Sansa’s challenge.

“Oh, not quite. Father called him away. You know they’re still trying to find a way to launch this new collaboration in a way that doesn’t seem like bad taste. The President’s death has rather overshadowed it,” explained Margaery.

“So you thought you’d come question me?” asked Sansa, playfully. Margaery beamed at her, like she would at a child taking its first clumsy steps.

“Precisely. I also wanted to ask about Lady…” Margaery left the sentence hanging. Sansa launched into her prepared explanation.

“She’s going with Jon straight to Winterfell. Don’t worry, they won’t release her until we get there.” Margaery nods thoughtfully but Sansa can tell she doesn’t disbelieve her, even if she doesn’t entirely believe her either.

“I miss her, you know.” Sansa felt her heart twist painfully at the sadness on Margaery’s face and leant forward, placing her hand on Margaery’s knee.

“She misses you too, I’m sure.” She says, because she’s not sure what else to say. A part of her wants to spill the truth now, just to get the inevitable over with. Margaery’s hand comes to rest over Sansa’s and she brightens up.

“Care to hear more of my adventures in politics?” She asks, and Sansa finds she doesn’t have the heart to say no.

As much as Sansa disliked politics, she found herself and Margaery falling into an easy conversation about them. The debt the realm was in, corruption, speculation on who would be elected next…

The train ride back to King’s Landing seemed to fly by and Sansa found herself blinking in surprise as the train pulled into the station. From the look on Margaery’s face, the older girl was having similar thoughts.

The Tyrell girl stood up and stretched. If Sansa had not been what she was, she would have assumed Margaery was completely unaffected. The wolf said otherwise, Margaery was genuinely surprised at how much she had enjoyed chatting to Sansa and at how the time had flown by.

She fixed a smile on her face and rose also, ignoring her stiff body’s protest. “I should go and find my Father.”

She said it to break the silence mostly. Margaery nods and makes to leave before stopping and turning back.

“Will you set up Lady’s goodbye for me then?” Margaery’s voice sounds small and pained. Sansa feels her heart lurch and without thinking, she draws her into a hug.

“Yes. I’ll message you about it tonight… I’m sure Lady has missed you.” she says. Margaery nods into her shoulder.

They stay like that for a while until finally, Margaery pulls away and Sansa realises their faces are so very close. She can feel a blush rising up cheeks and she knows Margaery has spotted it. They both freeze and it seems like the air is crystallizing around them.

Then Margaery kisses her.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and her body feels like it’s the full moon again, the wolf ready to run free. Her hands seem to move on their own accord, pulling Margaery close. She hears a whimper and realises it came from her.

They break apart breathless.

“I… wow. ” Margaery says, her voice quivering. Sansa nods, not trusting herself to speak.

“I have wanted to do that since the moment I met you.” Margaery elaborates, catching Sansa’s hands in her own.

“I… I had similiar thoughts.” she manages to croak out. Margaery beams at her, before bringing Sansa’s hand to her lips and kissing it gently. Sansa shudders at the feel of her lips and the warmth of her breath.

“Dear girl… I have to go. I’ll find you later though, you may have sidetracked me but I don’t jump into bed with anyone until I know all their secrets.”

She vanishes with a smirk and Sansa’s legs finally give out. She lands on the seat with a thump and throws her head backwards into the overly cushioned headrest. She should go find her father before the mad rush on the station platform gets underway.

Finally, she climbs up and makes her way, shakily, of the train.

It doesn’t take long to find her father. He’s talking with Stannis and Tyrion, casting worried glances at the entrance. Sansa doesn’t need to be told that the station is probably under siege by reporters. She wonders how many were under Littlefinger’s employ.

His plan to humiliate Renly was over but she’d learnt a lot as the Tyrell’s pet. A big part of that was that you could never trust Littlefinger. The mental image of her mother’s childhood friend had been utterly shattered. A brothel owner who secretly owned half the media in the land, he’d conspired with the Tyrell’s to get Garlan elected President and with Tywin Lannister to ensure Robert was forced out of office.

He’d managed to stay out of the witch hunt for Tywin’s supporters so far. He’d also managed to hold onto his job in government and Sansa was willing to bet that this was because her father did not realise the sheer amount of plots and misdeeds Littlefinger could be linked too.

“Dad.” she says. Her father turns and smiles before hugging her. Behind him, Stannis grinds his teeth and Tyrion smiles indulgently. Sansa supposes he can be indulgent, it’s very likely he’ll become the heir to Casterly Rock after this.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Her father draws back.

“The train ride back was interesting. A lot of debating about what is happening next.” He’s still hurting about Robert’s death, she realises. Robert had been closer than his own brothers and even though they had grown apart over the years, they still had a lot of history.

“Margaery said the same thing.” Sansa says. Her father’s eyebrows shoot up and Sansa realises he can probably smell Margaery all over her. He gives her a concerned look and Sansa catches the meaning.

Be careful with that girl.

“Margaery is very clever young woman.” says Tyrion, interrupting her father’s stern glare.

There is a knowing look about Tyrion’s face that Sansa doesn’t like the look of. She also doesn’t need wolf senses to know the he’s drunk. Very drunk. From the look Stannis is giving him, the older man has realised too. Sansa can see him grinding his teeth in irritation.

Drunk Tyrion Lannister, seriously irritated Stannis Baratheon… Sansa mumbles an excuse and heads off, mentally wishing her Father luck with that situation.

The rest of the Stark family have gathered by the entrance, the doors were heavily guarded. Her mother draws her into a quick hug as she reaches them.

“Sansa, dear, can you keep an eye on Arya. I have to go find your father.” Catelyn Stark looks harassed and Sansa guesses that the reason for that is leant against the wall behind them, smirking slightly.

Nearby, Robb doesn’t even look up from the conversation he is deep in with Talisa. He looks worried and Talisa seemed to be reassuring him of something. She doesn’t try to pry, Robb will tell them when the time is right. She hopes anyway.

“Where’s Gendry?” asks Sansa as their mother bustles away. Arya pulls a face and stands up properly.

“Some of the Black Brothers smuggled him out of the back so he could go find his mother.” Sansa ignores the little catch in Arya’s voice and decides to drop the subject. Arya could always be relied on to kick up a stink about interrogations into her loved life.

“I overheard some Gold Cloaks talking, they nearly had a riot getting the station clear of civilians before the train pulled in,” Her younger sister nods towards the doors and Sansa grimaces. As predicted, there was small army of reporters contained behind a metal fence watched over by gold cloaks.

“You and Margaery…?” Arya finally broaches the topic and Sansa schools her expression, Arya will never let it drop if she thinks it gets to Sansa in any way.

“Me and Margaery.” She hopes Arya takes it as confirmation and drops the subject and strangely, she does. Her little sister's eyes are on the crowd and their parents shoving their way over.

“Right, we’ve got two cars arranged and some rooms in the Red Keep tonight,” Catelyn tells them, from behind her mother, her father gives Sansa a grin and she decides to bear her mother's fussing with good nature.

The Stark’s troop out of the doors as the Tyrell’s make for the exit too. Margaery offers Sansa a sly smile and she blushes, recalling their kiss on the train.

_Oh, I am in deep..._


	23. Chapter 23

Sansa didn’t think that Winterfell, covered in snow, had ever been so beautiful to her as it was that morning when Jon and Robb hauled the crate she had climbed in a moment earlier out to Margaery’s goodbye.

She squashed a flicker of amusement as the crate hit the floor with a bump and Jon and Robb took a rest, groaning with the effort. If she had been human, she doubted she would have been able to resist making a joke.

The crate is cracked open and she makes a show of being hesitant and afraid. Her father lays his hand on her neck and guides her out, murmuring soft words to her. The woods that surround Winterfell called to her.

Arya was already somewhere deep within, having taken a change of clothing for Sansa to change into after she had put on her show of running free. Her father’s hand disappears and Sansa gets a good look at the gathered crowd. Olenna, Loras, Renly and Margaery form the non-Stark retinue.

“What was she called? Before she was Lady?” asked Margaery and Sansa wants to howl at the pain in her voice. Loras shoots her father an alarmed look, one she is sure Margaery doesn’t miss, she’s frowning slightly.

“It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t respond to it anymore. Only Lady.” Her father gives Margaery a smile after he says this and Margaery smiles sadly before turning to her former pet with a hand outstretched.

Sansa doesn’t hesitate, she goes to her and pushes her face into Margaery’s hand. An embarrassed voice at the back of her head notes her tail is wagging happily at being reunited with Margaery once more in her wolf form.

A soft whine finds it’s way out and Margaery forgets about being dignified and buries her face into Sansa’s coat. Sansa can feel her shaking slightly, although she doesn’t know if it’s the cold or emotion that causes it.

“You, I only bought as a joke to irritate Grandmother.” She murmurs. Olenna must have overheard because Sansa hears her snort.

“But then you were so smart and sweet…” Her voice cracks and she pulls back, running her hands over Sansa’s head. “I’m really going to miss you, Lady.”

The farewell might have gone on longer had Bran and Rickon in their wolf forms not raced out of the tree line, eager to play. Arya was hot on their heels. The three wolves crashed to halt some way from the group and waited patiently. Or at least Bran did, Arya and Rickon were nipping at each other and kicking up snow.

“I see why you call it the Wolfswood, Lord Stark.” The three new wolves have captured everyone's attention and Sansa senses that the Tyrell’s are slightly nervous. Their wolf forms are huge and if all four them were too attack, humans wouldn’t stand a chance.

Only Loras seemed vaguely at ease. Margaery rests her head on Lady’s back and watches him, head tilted in that ridiculously adorable manner. Uh oh, Sansa thinks to herself before taking action.

She uses the bulk of her wolf to unbalance Margaery into the snow. The girl shrieks and Sansa dances around her, as if inviting her to play.

“Some lady you are.” Margaery grumbles Nearby, Loras and Renly are doubled up in laughter and even Olenna has a small smile on her face. Margaery shoots them all a glare and stands up, dusting snow from her clothes, Loras forgotten for the moment.

“All right, Lady, time for you to go. Come visit me, okay?” A final pat on the head and Sansa knows it’s time to leave. Rickon has managed to pin Arya, so Sansa races over to knock him flying. Bran joins on Rickon’s side and the ensuing brawl takes them deep into the forest.

They stop, finally, in a clearing she only vaguely recognises. Arya seems to know they way and they follow her a brief distance to what was once a farmhouse. It hadn’t been occupied in nearly fifty years according to Old Nan, but it was perfect place for them to stash clothes so they could return to Winterfell incognito.

Surprisingly, it takes over five minutes for the teasing to begin about her predicament in the south. She had expected Arya to not waste anytime at all.

“So… what kind of collar did you wear?” asks her younger sister, shit-eating grin stretched across her face.

“Drop it, horseface.” She shoots back.

“Did you play fetch?” asks Rickon. That’s when she knows she doomed. She stays quiet, blushing as red as her hair as her two younger siblings howl with laughter. She catches Bran’s eye, surely he wouldn’t…

A small smirk crawls over his face. “How was the food?” he asked.

Disgusted, she turned to the door and stormed out. Three irritating children dancing along behind her.

It takes them a while to get back to Winterfell and Arya and the boys keep their insults and taunts up the entire way. Consequently, Sansa is in a stinking mood when they finally get inside.

She almost doesn’t notice Margaery waiting outside her room. “Sansa!” calls out the older girl and Sansa can’t help but wonder just how long she’s been waiting there.

“I hoped you would come and say goodbye to Lady with me?” her voice has that sly tone to it, that says she’s digging for information again. Sansa is not sure what information she thinks she’s digging for.

She offers the older girl a smile before unlocking her room. “I had to babysit Arya all morning. She’s being… trying.” Trying is being generous, she thinks to herself as she hangs up her coat.

Margaery steps into the room and her eyes roam over it and Sansa feels like Margaery’s trying to get a look into her soul itself. Sansa knows she hasn’t left anything incriminating about but her eyes still shoot about the room anyway. Margaery notices and smiles.

Damn

“You sister didn’t seem that bad when we met at Highgarden.” says Margaery as she moves over to Sansa’s old desk and sits in her chair. She’s genuinely smiling and Sansa can see it reaching all the way up into Margaery’s eyes.

Sansa perches on the edge of the bed and composes herself, because if she doesn’t she’s likely to rant about Arya and that would be rude.

“She was on her best behaviour.” Sansa settles on. Margaery chuckles.

“Siblings.” Says the Tyrell girl, by way of agreement and Sansa picks up on a crack in her voice.

“Still arguing with Loras about me?” She asks. Margaery sighs and leans back in the chair, her expression curiously unreadable.

“No… he made it quite clear your secrets and your family secrets were yours.” Margaery sighs, watching Sansa through half-closed eyes.

Sansa flinches and she knows Margaery sees. She hadn’t expected her to assume Sansa’s secret was a family secret… but then she supposes it makes sense. Margaery is Olenna at twenty three. She’s seen the photo’s.

Then she realises Margaery just got confirmation from her reaction and curses herself. Margaery smiles and stands up.

“You know I’m dying to learn more of Winterfell and it’s legends. So, where do I get a tour?” asks Margaery and Sansa isn’t certain whether she wants Sansa to show her around or not.

She needs time away from Margaery, to build a defence against relentless subtle questioning that she somehow keeps giving things away in…

She licks her lips and steels herself to speak without her voice cracking. “Old Nan is the best person to go too. She’s older than anyone here and she knows where all the bodies are buried.” Sansa says with the fakest sounding cheer. Margaery raises an eyebrow.

“Proverbial bodies. Proverbial. We aren’t a family of serial killers.” Sansa feels the needs to add.

“Of course, that’s exactly what a family of serial killers would say to helpless young maidens that stumble into their home.” Margaery laughs. “So, where can I find this Old Nan?”

“Oh… she mostly sits in the kitchens these days. She’s very old…” Sansa finds herself cut off as Margaery bends down and kisses her. Sansa moans and tilts her head back, allowing Margaery to run her hands through her hair.

Sansa’s hands find their way onto Margaery hips and almost without thinking, she drags Margaery closer. The older girl chuckles and pulls away.

“I shall be by tonight, sweet girl.” she murmurs and then leaves. Sansa throws herself backwards onto the bed and sighs heavily as her heart returns to normal.

Sansa doesn’t see Margaery for the rest of the day. Mostly because she spends it moping in her room, avoiding irritating siblings and parents that know far too much about a potential unconventional love life in her future.

It feels as if everything that had happened in the past month has come crashing down on her again and she feels exhausted, only fit for curling up beneath her covers and breathing in the smell of home.

She can’t quite fall asleep. Winterfell is noisy at the best of times but the Starks were hosting a select few of the realm’s elite and were determined to put on a good show. As Olenna was keen to remind her father, they also had a business deal to hash out as well.

Still, Sansa must have gotten some sleep though because when she finally felt herself again it was approaching dusk. She could smell her mother at the door and finally, the agitated knocking. She groaned and clambered out of bed.

“Sansa!” She couldn’t help but grimace at her mother’s tone. It was rife with worry, her mother hadn’t quite gotten over her disappearance. She was honestly surprised that her mother hadn’t cornered her alone earlier.

“Open this door or I shall have Jory-!” Her mother doesn’t get to finish her threat as Sansa wrenches the door open and scrunches up her face at the harsh light. Her mother looks older than ever and Sansa feels guilty for worrying her.

  
“Oh… I woke you up. Of course I did… today must have been tiring for you,” She pulls Sansa into a hug that somehow carries them both into the middle of the room. She hugs back, with as much strength she can muster.

“I was worried when you missed lunch and Margaery Tyrell was skulking about unsupervised…” her mother trails off and purses her lips. Sansa can’t imagine Margaery skulking anywhere and has to stop herself giggling at the thought.

“Speaking of Margaery Tyrell, your father had something very interesting to say. I trust I don’t need to give you a lecture on relationships,”

She’s blushing. Sansa knows her mother has seen it. Surprisingly, there’s only a little chuckle in return.

“I want you to be happy, Sansa. Still, she needs to be told. Soon and here. Where me and your father can run damage control,”

Sansa swallows hard and nods, voice gone. How would Margaery react? How does one even bring up lycanthropy… especially to the sister of your would be husband? The sister that you were dating because your husband and her husband are gay lovers. She feels her brain beginning to hurt.

“I’ll tell her. I just don’t know how.” she admits, startling herself with how small her voice sounds. Her mother looks sad for a moment.

“When you were younger, Sansa, I told you how I found out about all this?” she asked. Sansa hesitates, then nods.

“Littlefinger and Uncle Brandon had a duel and afterwards, he transformed because he was so caught up in the moment,” She knows this story of by heart. It had a duel, werewolves and the triumph of love. As long as she very carefully forgot to remember what had happened shortly afterwards.

“I was so shocked by it all that when you father came to comfort me, I pushed him in the Trident,” her mother chuckles and Sansa smiles despite herself.

“Margaery is smarter than I was… and if all else fails, send Arya to comfort her. It’s impossible to catch that girl for a bath,”

Their heart to heart is unfortunately interrupted by her mother’s phone. Her mother freezes and then brings her her hand to her face and sighs into it.

“Dinner… I came to get you for dinner,”

Of course, Sansa thinks, dinner with the Tyrell’s. Margaery couldn’t do much questioning in a crowd… right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to chop this chapter in half as it just wasn't working as one whole chapter. The next chapter will be shorter than usual. Still, nearly there :)


	24. Chapter 24

Half an hour later, Sansa isn’t sure whether to be relieved Margaery has finally left her alone… or worried. She gritted her teeth a little and hoped the headache starting somewhere at the back of her skull wouldn’t grow into a migraine. Her wolf was strong still and the crowded hall was like nails on a chalkboard to her heightened senses.

 

Not to mention that she’d barely sat down and she was already perfectly prepared to bite the next person to “subtly” enquire about her time away...

 

Her family had taken the top table, she’d been somewhat surprised and pleased to see Jon included there for the first time ever. Jon just looked bewildered.

 

She sat next to Loras, expecting Margaery to resume her duties as the most pleasant interrogator in all of Westeros but Renly and Margaery had taken up next to her grandmother several tables away and hadn’t spared Sansa a single glance.

 

It felt wrong. Loras laughed bitterly when she told him so out of the blue, half way through their incredibly awkward conversation about Winterfell’s fine stained glass windows.

 

“Renly still isn’t talking to me and Margaery has apparently decided to give everyone involved the silent treatment. She came storming back this afternoon, locked herself in her room. If I didn’t know better…”

 

Sansa lets him leave that speculation hanging. He leans over and places his hand on her knee, trying to look every inch the loving fiance. She smiles and leans in.

 

“Don’t worry… my sister’s a skeptic. I tried to convince her Highgarden was haunted when she was five. She proceeded to tell me in no uncertain terms that ghosts, snarks and grumkins most certainly did not exist. And that I was to stop being so silly about the whole thing,”

 

She finds herself laughing a little. It certainly sounds like Margaery. Her laugh dies in her throat when she glances up and catches Margery’s eyes briefly. Sansa finds herself smiling but the older girl's eyes were like ice. She feels her heart tug when she very deliberately turns away.

 

What had happened to make Margaery so angry…

 

Nothing during Sansa’s time as Lady could have led her to predict what had caused this sudden anger. Certainly nothing Old Nan had said? The old woman was full of stories about the children of the forest and the terrifying others. They were fairy tales, nothing Margaery hadn’t heard before certainly.

 

She finds herself thinking it over all through dinner, sneaking glances at her soon to be sister-in-law and hoping she doesn’t notice. Margaery does, of course, but whatever has gotten her riled up means she’s intent on ignoring Sansa. At least she is saved from more scintillating conversation with Loras on Winterfell’s architecture by Jory Cassel who draws him into a conversation about the finer points of fencing.

 

She’s somewhat relieved to find this conversation lasts throughout desert. Talking with Loras was easy, most of the time. Other times, when Margaery and Renly were weighing heavily on their minds it was different story.

 

Sansa couldn’t face another conversation about Winterfell’s windows…

 

It was well past midnight when Sansa made her way back to her room and before she had even reached the door, she knew someone was inside. There was sickly artificial floral scent emitting from the door that had been left slightly ajar.

 

She briefly debated calling for Jory and his men, but decided against it. There was no need to cause a scene and she doubted any man wore perfume like that. Although her nose was close to shutting down in self defence, she threw the door open and was only mildly surprised to find Margaery waiting for her.

 

She was still angry and even angry, she’s beautiful. Leaning against her desk as if it were her room and Sansa was the trespasser. Angry brown eyes gazed at her. Sansa swung the door shut gently and sighed.

 

“Did you bathe in that perfume you’re wearing?” she asked and Margaery shifts. If anything, the questions seems to make her more angry and Sansa isn’t entirely sure what she’s done to earn this.

 

“I may have poured a bottle of it on the floor. Dreadful, isn’t it?” Margaery doesn’t look good when she’s sneering, Sansa notes. A pit of dread is forming in her stomach.

 

_She can’t know…_ is vying with _Who told!?_

 

When Margaery sees Sansa has no intention of answering she stands up fully and stalks across the room until she’s in front of her. She’s sure the panic must show on her face…

 

“I don’t appreciate pranks. I can put up with it from Loras but I won’t be humiliated by my brothers beard!” She hisses and Sansa’s brain terminates it’s thought process.

 

“Prank?” she asks, genuinely confused and still not trusting this situation enough to be relieved. Margaery doesn’t look impressed.

 

“I spent the afternoon in your library. With old northern history books. Did you know that the Stark’s were supposedly werewolves once? Just like the Gardeners supposedly had the power to talk to plants?” Margaery begins pacing and Sansa breathes out shakily.

 

“I was aware. It’s my family history after all,” she replied, cautiously. She’s beginning to understand why Margaery was so angry. She thought Sansa and Loras’ bad secret keeping were their attempts to play a prank.

 

“Listen. I don’t for one minute believe you’re Lady. Or Lady is you. So you and Loras can stop this little game and confess the real secret you’re keeping from me and Renly.”

 

Sansa’s heart really is in her throat now. This is her chance. Her way of revealing the family secret to Margaery. Her voice seems to have gone and to her horror, she just stands there gaping at the older woman.

 

Margaery snorts and moves past her. Her hand is on the doorknob and Sansa finally manages to speak.

 

“I AM Lady though,” she manages to croak out. She feels Margaery stop dead behind her and wishes she could smell more over that damned perfume.

 

“I’m sorry?” she hears the other girl asks, dangerous edge in her voice. Sansa turns around. The secrets out. There is no way Margaery didn’t hear her.

 

“I am Lady,” she says, terror flooding her veins at the same time as elation. Margaery knows the truth now. Or rather, Sansa has said the truth. Margaery won’t believe without proof. She could deal with that.

 

It’s Margaery’s turn to gape like a fish, but Sansa senses it’s more that Margaery didn’t believe she had the audacity to lie to her face more than anything Sansa has confessed.

 

“I don’t believe you. Prove it,” she shoots back with, after an uncharacteristic moment of silence. Sansa smiles because she can prove it. Margaery doesn’t look so certain once she sees the confidence return to Sansa.

 

She pauses to observe the war of emotions over the older girl's face and she knows that this whole situation has really thrown Margaery for a loop as she has not even bothered to try and hide what she’s feeling.

 

_There is no way this is true_ fighting with _But what if this is true…_

 

Her eyes dart around Sansa’s room as if she expects a camera crew to pop out and shout that this had all been a prank. Sansa isn’t sure why, that show hasn’t been on air in years.

 

“I can prove it,” Sansa says, mostly to get Margaery to focus on her again. She shifts but doesn’t make any move to leave. Sansa nods at her, her stomach feels like she’s on a roller coaster.

 

She slips her jacket and Margaery is blushing suddenly. The anger is back and Sansa is left wondering what she did wrong again.

 

“Oh this is ridiculous. I’m leaving, Sansa.”

 

Before Sansa can say a word, Margaery wrenches the door open and storms off. The sickly floral scent is stirred into the air and suddenly, she’s fighting tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last is currently being written. Sorry for the long break, real life took over for a while.


	25. Chapter 25

It takes her some time to gather herself together again. The slow fading of the perfume Margaery had dumped all over the floor was her only indication of time. Sansa thought that maybe two or three hours had passed before she became aware her back was creaking and her legs ached.

Then as suddenly as the tears had come, anger flooded into her. She breathed deeply, feeling the flames of it burn higher as if fueled by the awful smell. The perfume had obscured her ability to read Margaery, but it would also let her track her. Margaery would smell as much as the room would.

It doesn’t take her long to pick up Margaery’s trail, the smell lingers. Even in well travelled hallways and servants are eager to point out where Lady Margaery had gone when the trail became confused or, in rare cases, obliterated entirely.

She follows it, anger biting at her heels and pushing her on. Wherever Margaery was going it wasn’t her rooms, somewhere outside. Sansa paused at the great doors that led into Winterfell proper, peering into the swirling snow and darkness.

She doubted Margaery was dramatic enough to throw herself into an oncoming snow storm because her love played a prank on her. Where could she be going?

Outside the perfume was harder to follow and Sansa realised if she had any hope of tracking her angry love… girlfr… friend, she wouldn’t be able to do it as a human. It took less than a few minutes to slip out of her clothes in a quiet and deserted corner. The transformation was equally quick and soon she was moving through the snow, nose in the air to pick up any of Margaery’s scent.

It didn’t take her long to figure out where Margaery had gone, even if she had no clue why she had gone there.

The Godswood.

She moves on, focused only on the fake floral scent lingering faintly. The trees grew denser and the snow in in the air faded until there was nothing but a biting wind. Up ahead she could see the heat lamps that lit the Godswood during the hard winters.

She slowed down to a gentle trot, eyes searching the holy ground for Margaery. Not that the older girl had gone out of her way to hide herself. She was stood before the Heart tree, hands hanging limply by her side and her breath making puffs of vapour in the air.

Sansa allowed herself to make some noise in the quiet opening. The scrape of her claws there, a snuffle here. Margaery froze the moment the quiet noises reached her ears.

Sansa paused in her approach, waiting to see what Margaery would do now she was no doubt aware of Sansa’s presence.

She turned slowly, soft brown eyes filled with tears took in the sight of the animal she’d known as Lady standing before her. Sansa felt like she was swimming in tension, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment silence reigned as Margaery just stared, then she gasped softly and sank to the ground.

Sansa moved forward again and she could breathe again. She pushed her nose into Margaery’s hands.

The girl was cold, expected for being outside in the dead of night in the North of all things, but Margaery was not a flower to wilt from mere cold so she pushed aside a flicker of concern and pushed closer.

“Sansa?”

She would have missed it if she hadn’t the enhanced hearing of her kind. Hands stroked up and down her fur. Sansa curled closer to her again.

“Oh gods… this was the truth.. Wasn’t it?” Margaery pulls back at her realisation, hands shaking and looking ill.

And Sansa transforms.

By the time she’s done Margaery pressed against a tree in horror and Sansa’s naked with only the heat lamps to avoid losing her toes to the frost.

“I did tell you,” she says, not sure where her earlier anger had fled too. Margaery isn’t listening though, she was busy taking her coat off. Sansa thought she could spy a blush on her face but by the time the older girl was handing the coat to her it was gone.

The coat is far too small and thin to keep any real cold from getting at her but she supposes it covers the important bits so she accepts it as gracefully as possible.

“It’s true.” Margaery says, after she pulled it on. She’s shivering herself now she has no coat so Sansa takes her by the shoulders and guides them closer to a heat lamp.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa says finally, not even sure what she’s apologising for. In her arms, Margaery draws a shuddering breath and Sansa realises she’s crying.

“Why did you tell Loras before me?” she asks, once her sobs have subsided.

“I didn’t! He walked in on me and…” Margaery pulls away from her, face stained red with tears. She’s truck suddenly by how beautiful she is, all over again. She cuts off Sansa’s further protestations.

“I’ve been something of a pig to women in the past, Sansa Stark, but I fell for you and I couldn’t stand the idea of…,” She sobs again, cutting off what she wanted to say.  
Before Sansa can reply though a cold, biting wind whips up around them, causing both the shiver uncontrollably.

“Perhaps we should continue this someplace warmer,” murmurs Margaery and Sansa finds herself emphatically agreeing. She may be a werewolf but not even werewolves wanted to be naked in a snowstorm.

The trip back to Sansa’s room is much easier. Night has well and truly fallen and there's no one about to see what an odd pair they make. Or Sansa’s complete lack of clothing. She does remember to retrieve what she discarded however. They’d all made that mistake once before and it’d be hard to explain it away as diving into the pools in the godswood in the middle of a snowstorm…

As they snuggle together under the sheets, Sansa finds her worry at her mother finding them drifting away as Margaery pulls herself closer.  
_________________________________________________________________________

Sansa stares at her reflection in the mirror as behind her Margaery, her mother and the various Tyrell cousins alternate between debating her make-up and cooing over how lovely her dress looks.

It doesn’t help that Margaery keeps shooting her looks that she’s sure someone has noticed…

Her eyes meet her sister’s through the mirror and the younger girl rolls her eyes and Sansa can’t help but smile. She may be getting married to a man who didn’t love her because she was in love with his sister but at least Arya was still the same…

Mostly anyway.

“Don’t roll your eyes, Arya Stark, it’ll be you next,” barked her mother, only catching half the silent interaction.

“You’d be better off eloping with the fuss this lot make over everything,” came the acidic remark of the Queen of Thorns. Margaery tapped her grandmother on the shoulder and frowned.

“She better not do. Do not elope young lady!”

And the attention was briefly off of her whilst her mother tried to head off any of Arya’s bright ideas and the Tyrell cousins began debating about Arya’s boyfriend, Gendry.

Margaery placed her hands on her shoulders and smoothed the dress out slightly with a smile before leaning down to her ear.

“You’re fine… and this’ll be perfect,” ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been over a year. And it's been a very hectic year. I can only apologise how long this took.


End file.
